


Tougher Than The Rest

by JamJar98



Category: NCIS
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 60,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25507249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamJar98/pseuds/JamJar98
Summary: Jenny Shepard survived the shootout in the diner, although she has a second chance, she might be running out of time. Despite their fragile relationship, Gibbs still cares about her. When he finally confronts her, their relationship takes a surprising turn. They have to make a choice, to fight for what they had or miss their one last chance.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jenny Shepard
Comments: 17
Kudos: 49





	1. Fire Away

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, everything belongs to CBS. Title of the story is roughly based on the Bruce Springsteen song.
> 
> Admittedly it has been a very long time since I contributed something to the Jibbs universe. I am slowly getting back into the swing of things. There are several unfinished stories, but I hope to have them all wrapped up as time goes. This chapter was written almost 2 years ago, and with a very special thanks to NerdyJibbsOreo I managed to find my love for Jibbs once again. It’s an extremely challenging fic to write, so naturally a lot of the timeline has been changed. In this Judgement Day did happen, everything hopefully explains itself. No matter how much research I have done there are bound to be mistakes or cases of creative license, I honestly don’t wish to offend anyone. As the story continues some characters might appear OOC despite how hard I try to stay between the character lines. My other Jibbs work can be found [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7281659/JamJar98) .
> 
> Enjoy*

The July sun was hot on her face. She could hear the tweeting of nearby birds, despite the cars driving past the Navy Yard. She listened to her Detail confirm the Director was still okay and that whatever perimeter they deemed fit was secured. Sitting on a stone bench in front of the building she ran wasn’t her ideal example of relaxation, but it was better than being cooped up in a depressing office.

Breathing in the warm air that wafted around her, she tried to remember where she’d gone wrong. The moment she left Jethro, with nothing but a letter and the soft butterscotch leather coat he’d bought her, that must have felt like a slap in the face. If their roles had been reversed, she probably would have shot him in the knee for leaving in such a lousy way. That was the past and she had tried to move on.

The death of her father had loomed over her since the day her mother had called her and told her he had committed suicide. That had been her driving force up until the moment she shot the man responsible in the head. An eye for an eye – that’s how she preferred to see it as opposed to Jethro’s speech about the need to hate someone. She didn’t need anyone or anything – but she wanted Jethro, and she wanted her life to be different.

In the end – fate, karma – call it what you will, or whatever Abby would, it had finally caught up with her. When Ducky had told her, she had simply thanked the good doctor and had asked him to please keep this quiet. She didn’t need people's sympathy. All she needed was for everyone to continue as if everything was still the same, but she knew, and that was getting to her. Those two weeks being poked and prodded had hurt, and she’ hoped they’d tell her that she was absolutely fine. For a brief moment she’d forgotten she was sick – Natasha had been after her and she’d hoped that life would be more forgiving in the way she left this world.

Jethro just had to be a damn hero.

He’d swooped in at the last moment with what had looked like a SWAT team, killing almost everyone in sight. Mike had laughed that gravely laugh of his and had lit up a cigarette, celebrating yet another chance at life. She’d envied him, wishing she could be as happy as he was they hadn’t been killed. Vance had been on his high-horse ever since then, but she’d ignored him and SecNav.

Jethro hadn’t talked to her since that day, at least not like the adult he actually was. He had shouted at her and called her out on all the various things she could have done better. Berated her on things that had been completely out of her control. At least the few days he’d been away in Stillwater had given her some peace and quiet.

Pushing her Aviator sunglasses further up her nose she watched team Gibbs walk across the large expanse of green grass. Their laughter reached her, and it reminded her of better times. She doubted Tony would ever be able to forgive her for what she had done to him. She knew exactly how he felt. Every day she had to look into the eyes of the man who had once been her everything, and then leaving him because she had other priorities.

Abby waved from where she skipped next to Tim. Jenny waved back, giving her smile, Abby had a big heart and a whole lot of soul. She knew that Abby had been panicked when she had run the blood sample. At least it didn’t exactly pinpoint the disease. It just confirmed something was wrong, making it easier for Ducky to lie. She had felt bad about dragging him into this, but she’d rather have it come from a friend than a complete stranger.

Tilting her head up she enjoyed the moment of peace. She wasn’t going to give up. Her life was far from over, and she was going to live until the very last breath she took. Her boost of spirit and confidence quickly disappeared when she spotted him near the coffee stand. If it hadn’t been for the pain, she would have moved quicker, but he’d spotted her long before she could get to her feet.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she saw Melvin look at her with concern. He was the only other person who knew about her health, or rather lack there of. He had pieced the two things together and had told her that he understood since he had family going through the same thing. She knew he’d be ready to fight Jethro off just so she could have a moment of serenity. She shook her head at him minutely. She had to face him sooner or later, especially since she’d be stepping down the moment Leon and his family were settled in DC.

She felt his eyes run over her. Trying to see if she was going to tell him to leave her alone or if she’d be willing to talk to him.

Jethro held out the second cup of coffee, giving her a brief smile as she took it from him. He nodded at Melvin as he looked at him before turning back to scanning their surroundings, stepping further away to give them some privacy. Taking a seat next to Jenny, he drank from his tall Styrofoam cup.

“Never thought I’d see you outside, Madam Director.” He wanted her to snap at him, just so he could be reminded that she was still with him. The whole California débâcle had terrified him, a few times he’d thought he’d lost her, but he’d never tell her that.

She didn’t answer him, preferring to simply drink the scalding coffee. She desperately wanted to tell him she was sick, but she didn’t want to see him pity her. People went through this all the time. It was hardly something new, and she would make it through this.

“You have a nice day, Special Agent Gibbs.” She wasn’t going to have her blood pressure shoot through the roof just to satisfy his child-like need to make her angry. She moved to get up but his hand wrapping around her wrist made her stop.

“Jenny,” Jethro said gruffly, he hated the fact that he couldn’t look into her eyes. “What’s going on?”

She pulled her hand away from him, knowing he’d feel her pulse skitter. Shrugging her shoulders, she took another drink from her cup. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jethro rolled his eyes. He didn’t have the patience to try and figure out what exactly it was that she was so desperately trying to hide. He knew Jenny, knew what she was like when something bothered her or when she was trying to hide something. Abby had expressed her concern. Telling him that the Director didn’t drop by for visits any more and that it was bothering her. Hoping to appease her, he had set out to see what the problem was.

He didn’t want to tell Abby that he suspected there was something wrong with Jenny, it would only make her worry. The sudden two week absence had only grounded his suspicions and given Ducky’s uncanny ability to keep the darkest of secrets he knew something was up. He just didn’t know what.

“Where were you those two weeks before Decker’s funeral?” Jethro turned to look at her. He couldn’t see anything physically wrong with her, apart from the fact that she had lost some weight.

“Personal time, Jethro, and what I did is none of your business.” She pushed herself up and turned to look at him, her eyes still covered. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Melvin was by her side in seconds, walking two steps behind her. She could feel Jethro’s icy blue eyes bore into her back as she walked back towards the building. She’d tell him she was sick the day she handed in her resignation and Leon took her place as Director. For now she just wanted to do her job without anyone looking at her differently.

She smiled at the guard at the front desk as he greeted her like he always did. Pressing the button for the elevator, she stepped in with Melvin beside her. The elevator jolted as it started moving.

“He’s going to find out sooner or later.” Melvin said as they rode the elevator up.

“It doesn’t concern him.” Jenny answered as she took off her sunglasses and slipped them into the breast pocket of her blouse.

“He cares about you.” Melvin looked at her over his shoulder. “He just doesn’t show it.”

Jenny laughed, “When exactly did you become such an expert on peoples feelings?”

Melvin gave a soft chuckle and shook his head, he turned to look at the silver doors again turning a bit more serious this time. “He looks at you the same way my brother-in-law looked at my sister when he suspected she had cancer.”


	2. Honey, I'm not afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some creative license has been taken around Jenny's illness for storyline purposes.
> 
> Enjoy*

There was a sense of loss hanging over them, she’d felt it the moment she had walked into her office. Cynthia had been unusually quiet, dabbing at her eyes as discreetly as possible. Melvin was in his usual spot, pretending to flip through a magazine while he babysat. SecNav’s insistence that her detail follow her everywhere had been nothing more than trying to keep her in check. None of the agents seemed to find it strange, after all she did break protocol.

The office felt no less bare than her first day on the job. She had made sure to keep her personal life away from the office. She had taken her father’s picture home the night before, proudly smiling at her on the desk in the study. The only other thing she’d swiped was the full bottle of bourbon, a keepsake to remember the agency. For the first time since taking the position, she was leaving at a reasonable hour.

The silence that had settled over the office had her reflecting on the last three years. There was little doubt that she would’ve done anything different, if only there had been a way not to involve Tony. Bridges had been burnt and maybe that was life giving her an easy way out. The knock on the door was a surprise, drawing her from her thoughts.

Very few people ventured into her office these days. Apart from Legal and a few unlucky probies, she was generally left to the company of her detail and her ever faithful secretary. Trying to muster a smile at whoever decided to venture into her office, she was surprised at the sight of Ducky.

“Doctor Mallard.” The greeting was formal, days of being close friends were long behind them. “What crises are we dealing with this time?” She was willing to hide the pain and fatigue for a few more hours if it meant she got to do her job one last time.

“Ah, I must apologise for the intrusion.” Ducky smiled, casting a questioning look at Cynthia’s empty desk. Venturing farther into the office, he cast a glance around the large room. “Is dear Cynthia leaving?”

Curiosity was the old doctor’s forte. Catching the intrigued look from Melvin, Jenny brushed him off. Turning her attention back to the old doctor she smiled at him, indulging one last time. “Yes, she’s been offered a very esteemed position on the Hill. I couldn’t possibly take the opportunity from her.”

It was somewhat the truth, Cynthia was leaving NCIS for a position with a senator. She had been offered the job numerous times, but her faithfulness had held her back. There was just the briefest moment of pride, knowing Cynthia would fill the new role effortlessly.

“Is that all you came for, Doctor?” The question was teasing and she clearly pulled him from whatever he’d been thinking of.

Ducky had the good grace to blush. Closing the metal door behind him, he moseyed his way to the large desk. He gave Jenny a once over, wondering how long she was going to pretend she was fine.

“I am concerned for you my dear.” He finally admitted. Despite his vow to keep her diagnoses a secret, it was slowly eating away at him. “Dear Abby has been sick with worry, she’s close to solving whose blood she tested.”

“Have you told her it was a miss diagnoses?” Jenny asked softly. She should’ve left them out of this, but Ducky was her only confidant. News would’ve spread like wild fire if she had done it through the proper channels.

“Have you told Jethro the real reason why you are leaving? Or anyone for that matter?” Ducky retaliated.

Jenny raised a perfect brow at him. Answering a question with a question was so characteristically Jethro’s influence. Shaking her head, she gathered her things on her desk. Clenching her teeth, she pushed herself out of her chair. “As you well know, Doctor, I am not one for unwanted sympathy.”

Grabbing her briefcase that housed the bottle of bourbon, she breezed passed the old doctor. Resting a hand on the cold door handle, she offered him a tired smile. “I’ll see you around, Ducky.”

Melvin was on his feet, taking the briefcase from her despite the murderous glare as she stepped into the outer office. Cynthia had her small box of possessions in hand. The two people had been her only support the last few months. Giving Cynthia a genuine smile, she was relieved to receive a confident one in return.

The squad room was bustling with activity as they made their way onto the catwalk. It was a rare occurrence to see all of team Gibbs gathered at their desks writing up reports. The last thing she had done before handing over to Leon was get them the weekend off.

The office didn’t seem to pay attention. It wasn’t out of place for her to take home a box filled with reports and this seemed no different. She felt her muscles burn as they made their way down the stairs, thankful Cynthia was deliberately slowing their pace. Melvin was hovering right behind her, ready to jump into action. Reaching the landing, she sighed.

Tony was casually spinning in his chair, striking up conversation with any of his team mates willing to listen. She saw his eyes darken and jaw clench as he watched her. Ziva kept her head low and busy with reports. Tim was doing the same, although, he was clearly too engrossed in his computer screen to notice anything around him.

Jethro drank from the white Styrofoam cup, blue eyes cold and guarded. It was the same look she had been met with ever since her return from Los Angels. Meeting his gaze, she pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to tell him she had resigned. He’d probably sneer and give her a list of rules she was breaking. After all, they weren’t good at parting ways.

A part of her was going to miss this, seeing all of them hard at work, cold blue eyes staring at her when she wasn’t looking. Forcing a smile across her lips, she watched him simply lower his cup and track her way to the elevator.

The ding seemed perfectly timed. The silver box was cold as the doors slid shut on a part of her life that was well behind her now.

Team Gibbs watched the doors close, unaware of Ducky’s presence. The old doctor cleared his throat, drawing Jethro’s attention.

“The Director brush you off, Duck?” He looked at the old doctor, noticing the sad down turn at the corner of his mouth.

Ducky took a deep breath, knowing that it better come from him than SecNav. He didn’t question Jenny’s need for secrecy, she had her reasons, but he wasn’t going to let her go through this alone.

“I’m afraid the Director has resigned.” The news seemed to draw the bullpen’s attention.

Ziva seemed surprised, knowing her working relationship with Jenny it was understandable. Tony sat up in his chair, grinding to a halt as he gaped at McGee who seemed equally surprised. He frowned looking at his teammates.

“She couldn’t have, I mean, she didn’t even say goodbye.” Tony grumbled.

Jethro crushed his coffee cup, knowing he should’ve recognised the look in her eyes. He’d seen that sad look in those green eyes before and he’d been stupid enough back then to brush it off. “She say anything else?” He looked at the old doctor, knowing Jenny, she was going to disappear off the face of the earth.

“No, but I suggest you make a house call.” Ducky muttered loud enough for only him to hear.

Nodding, Gibbs growled at his team to pack up and head home. Grabbing his coat, he slipped it on along with his holster. Ducky’s firm grip on his arm stopped him in his tracks.

“Talk to her, my dear boy. She’s going to need you.”

* * *

The old Georgetown mansion was warm as they stepped into the foyer. The sound of Noemi pottering around in the kitchen breaking the deafening silence. Jenny shrugged off her coat, ignoring the pain in her shoulders. Melvin brushed passed her and into the study with her briefcase. Cynthia was still on the phone, smoothing over everything with the young lady who was going to take her place.

She had three months to get used to the idea of leaving NCIS. It had been spent reading Leon Vance in on every active mission and classified OP being organised. Despite their mutual dislike of each other, she knew he’d fill the role effortlessly. According to Tom Morrow, he had been groomed for the position since the day he started.

She allowed herself an arrogant smirk. Being offered the role of Director had been a dream she’d chased since her father’s death. When the opportunity was finally offered to her, she couldn’t find it in herself to turn it down. The smirk dropped from her face. The need for vengeance had almost cost Tony his life and ruined every relationship she had built in the agency.

“Director, are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?” Cynthia asked as she fussed with her handbag.

Giving her a good-natured look, Jenny shook her head. “It’s Jenny, I’m not your boss any more.” The younger woman gave her a bright smile. “No, I will be fine and stop worrying. Let Melvin take you home and go celebrate.”

Cynthia moved towards her, giving her a gentle hug. “If there’s anything you need. A shoulder to cry on or someone to hold your hand…”

Jenny pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. Now go, anyone who parties with Abby is going to need all their strength.”

Cynthia laughed as Melvin opened the front door for her. “I’ve never been to the kind of party Abby invited me to.”

Jenny raised her eyebrows. “Brace yourself.”

Whatever happiness surrounded them seemed to leave as Cynthia made her way to the Lincoln town car. The tall figure by the door drew her attention from the mail sitting on the table. Looking up, she found Melvin silently glaring at her.

“What?” The exasperation in her voice told him not to push his luck.

“I’ll pick you up Monday morning.”

Jenny rolled her eyes, flicking through the mail. “I don’t think the new Director is going to like that idea. Besides, I can drive myself, I’m not an invalid.”

Melvin narrowed his eyes at her. He’d been assigned to her detail for the last two and a half years, following her around the world. Apart from the incident in LA, he had always been by her side, making sure she was safe. He didn’t consider their relationship to be anything more than professional.

Nodding his head in defeat, he gave her an encouraging smile. “Call whenever you need a ride, Ms. Shepard.”

The door clicked shut and she sighed. It had been a long day of signing off and making sure everything was in place. Noemi ventured into the foyer, dressed and ready to go home. Giving the housekeeper a smile she wished her a goodnight.

Finally alone, she ran her eyes across the foyer. The last time she had been home with nothing to do was right after her two week leave of absence. It felt strange, on any given day she’d give anything to have a few minutes to herself. A good portion of her life had been taken up by a need to hate someone, maybe Jethro had been right all along.

Making her way into the kitchen, she silently thanked Noemi for making a pot of coffee before she left. Filling a large mug, she sipped it slowly. The pain was slowly easing and the nausea finally settling. The front door slammed unexpectedly and she instinctively reached for her hip. There was no service weapon, but it was a habit that was hard to shake.

“Noemi? Did you forget something?” It was the only person she could think of who would let themselves in.

She waited for a reply, but none came.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the quiet hall and she braced herself for the unexpected visitor.

He stepped into the kitchen doorway, the long black coat he wore blending in with the dark hall. He looked at her with annoyance, blue eyes scanning his surroundings. Leaning his shoulder against the door frame, he carried an air of familiarity that seemed out of place.

“Heard you quit.” He grumbled.

Jenny narrowed her eyes at him, already suspecting that Ducky was behind his sudden appearance in her kitchen. She raised an eyebrow, a sarcastic look darkening her eyes. “Good news travels fast.”

He glared at her, wondering why exactly he had thought it would be a good idea to chase after her. She’d been more cold and distant than he expected. He only had himself to blame for how their relationship had deteriorated. The tension in the team had only intensified when the Frog had turned up dead. Finding out that she had failed to complete her mission while they had been undercover only drove the wedge between them deeper.

“You forget to leave me a note?” He bit back at her.

The pain flashed in her eyes, pools of green glistening. He bit his tongue, knowing he’d maybe gone too far. It had slipped out before he could stop himself. The circumstance were no different, she had left him without a word, and she had done it again.

Jenny licked her lips, too tired to match his anger. If she had known Ducky was going to send him, she would’ve left without giving the good doctor the courtesy of telling him she was leaving. At least he had broken the news as opposed to Leon Vance.

Taking her cup in hand, she clenched her teeth trying to hide the pain. The gunfight in the diner had left her with one too many grazes and they were incredibly slow to heal. Walking passed him, she ignored his heated glare.

“Say goodnight, Gracie.” She muttered as she made her way to her study.

The last thing she wanted was to fight with him over something that was inevitable. SecNav had wanted her out of office anyway. She had made her choices, sacrificed everything to hunt down her father’s killer. Time had run out and she had to pay the price.

He didn’t take her hint to leave, instead following her into her study. Jethro took in the room, the last time he had been in here, Svetlana had almost killed him. Jenny had been in the hospital, under strict observation and not allowed to have any visitors. His gut had told him that she had been behind the ‘no visitors’ rule. Abby had mentioned that she was concerned for the Director’s health, adding to the feeling.

He watched as she eased in behind the large wooden table, elegant and poised as always. It struck him that he’d never see her at NCIS again. Frustration bubbled up inside him. Tom Morrow had left in the same fashion, no fan-fair and no goodbye. At least he’d given him warning that he’d be stepping down.

“If you’re here to cite one of your rules, I suggest you leave.” Jenny muttered as she rifled through one of the drawers.

“Why? You wanna be alone when you drown yourself in bourbon?” He sneered at her, angered that she wasn’t willing to tell him why she had resigned.

She laughed, cold and mirthless. Green eyes bore right through him, unable to hide the pain his words had caused. “No, that’s your speciality.” She found what she was looking for. Popping open the pill bottle’s cap, she swallowed down two pills.

Venturing further into the study, he took a seat in one of the leather chairs. He wasn’t going to leave until she gave him an explanation. He watched as she shrugged out of her jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. The bruises on her pale skin drew his attention immediately. She froze when she suddenly noticed, looking at him almost nervously. She covered her writs, dropping her hands in her lap and out of his sight.

“What happened?” He leaned forward, knowing that his interrogation techniques weren’t going to be of much use.

“None of your business.” She snapped at him, seemingly annoyed with herself for what happened. The familiar Director facade slowly fell in place, her face emotionless. “Now, if you’re here for an apology, you’re not going to get it.”

“Damn it! Jen!” The sudden shout caused her to flinch. She glared at him as he pushed himself out the chair.

He stomped to her liquor cabinet, pouring a tumbler full of bourbon. Knowing what was about to happen, she abandoned her spot, trying to put some distance between them. Taking her mug of coffee, she stood in front of the dead fireplace.

Jethro took a swig of alcohol. He didn’t miss the pain in her face when she stood up, or the awkward way she held herself.

“What the hell is going on with you?” The question came out more rude than he had expected.

He watched as she straightened slowly, determined to stay silent. He felt his patience slowly slipping. The secrecy had brought them this far, unable to have a civil conversation or face each other.

Jenny bit her lip. It felt like Paris all over again. She had wanted to tell him back then that she got offered the job with Mossad, but their relationship had fallen apart. Time had never healed any wounds, she wanted to tell him now that she was sick and that her chances were slim. Yet, he had cut her off. At least she knew why he’d done it all those years ago. Now, it was just a case of broken trust and lies between them.

“Is this about Mike Franks?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “He was the only person I could trust. He knew the stakes and he damn well didn’t do it for me.”

He seethed at her. “Me! You should have come to me!” Slamming the tumbler on the desk, he thumped across the carpet, invading her personal space. “It was our mess, not his.”

She scoffed at him, moving away from him as quickly as possible. “It was _my_ mess.” Shaking her head, she drank her now cold coffee. “He did it to keep you safe.” All she had wanted to do was protect him, Mike had readily agreed when he realised Jethro’s life was at stake. She couldn’t possibly tell him that she had failed to take out her target. He already knew all her flaws and shortcomings, she had never intended to walk out of that diner alive.

Jethro stepped closer to her, placing a large hand on her shoulder, he felt her tense. “Jen,” the use of her name seemed to draw her attention back to him. “For once in your life tell me the truth.”

Green eyes blazed up at him, anger and tears glistening in the late afternoon sun. She pulled away from him, a little more lethargic than he expected. “You son of a bitch.”

He grit his teeth, grabbing her arm gently, he held it in his palm. He could see the clear bruises from where he had grabbed her the day before. He swallowed, meeting her gaze as she yanked her arm out of his grip. “What’s going on, Jen?”

“The leave of absence,” he stepped closer to her. “Your suicide mission and now you resign?” The mask of emotionless Director she wore everyday was slowly slipping. “Ducky didn’t send me here for nothing and I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth.”

She stared at him, wondering how much she could tell him that would make him leave without having too many questions. “The Secretary of the Navy feels that I have over stayed my welcome. So instead of getting fired, I resigned. There’s nothing more to it, please tell Ducky that he doesn’t have to worry.”

Jethro narrowed his eyes, touching her wrist, he met her large green eyes. “Your eye’s twitching again.” He brought her wrist closer for inspection. “What happened, Jen? Did I do this?” He could kick himself for being so rough with her. He should smack himself for not being her partner when she needed him the most.

“Jethro…” She sighed, there was no point in fighting it. News travelled fast around the Navy Yard and the longer she tried too hide it the more pressure it placed on Ducky’s shoulders.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his thumb soothing over the purple marks.

“I’m sick.” She let out a shuddering breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

Thick grey eyebrows pinched together. “It’s the middle of July.” He reasoned, he knew she could catch colds quite easily. He had spent weeks in Paris nursing her back to health so they could carry out their mission.

Jenny rolled her eyes at him. “Jethro, I have stage three breast cancer.”

He felt his blood run cold, the air suddenly disappearing from his lungs. The grip he had on her wrist tightened ever so slightly. Clenching his teeth, he fought against the sudden rush of emotion. Licking his lips, he watched as the last rays of daylight disappear. The office illuminated by the small desk lamp.

“How long have you known?” He didn’t know what else to ask. The last thing he’d expected was this.

Shaking off his grip, she shrugged. “I was diagnosed when I took my leave of absence.” She sighed. “Only Ducky and SecNav knows the truth. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life chained behind that desk, as short as it may be.”

It hurt him more than he expected when she put it like that. She’d had enough time to process the news as best she could and she was hiding behind all her strength to brush it off. He touched her shoulder, trying to pull her in for a hug.

Jenny resisted, placing her hand against his chest to stop him. “I don’t want your sympathy.” It was cold, but she couldn’t allow herself to depend on his comfort.

Jethro ground his teeth together. “Have you considered any kind of therapy?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Although a civil conversation with him was a nice change of pace, she didn’t exactly like the topic he was going for. “Jethro, I’m a big girl I can take care of myself.”

He didn’t seem to challenge her this time, instead accepting her need not to talk about it. “It’s not your fault. So please, if there’s nothing else, it’s been a long day.”

The passive way he nodded was so out of character she wished she hadn’t told him. Walking with him to the front door, she opened it slowly. He seemed to hesitate, watching her intently.

“G’night, Jen.”

“Goodbye, Jethro.”

* * *

Melvin flicked through a copy of the latest _Cosmopolitan_ , his presence seemed to be a little intimidating. The young girl sitting across from them kept shooting him a nervous glance. A black suit and tie wasn’t exactly the most subtle of choices, but he was technically speaking on the clock. Flipping the page, he tried to blend into his surroundings.

He glanced at Jenny, noting the pale look on her face. They had been waiting for fifteen minutes, getting settled and for the nurse to talk to the oncologist. He let out a sigh, paging yet again.

“I still don’t know why you insisted on accompanying me?” Jenny muttered at him irately.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her, turning back to his magazine. He subconsciously scanned the quiet room, aware that despite her stepping down, she was still a target.

“Just trying to be nice.” He finally answered. The mood swings was something he’d grown used to, a bit more understanding than the rest of the guys who used to be on her detail. “Besides, who would you be talking to if I weren’t here?”

She gave him an annoyed look, brushing it off, he closed the magazine. Crossing his legs, he plastered a friendly smile on his face as the nervous young girl glanced at him again. He twisted in his chair, looking at his former boss. “The running theory is that you have been arrested.”

Jenny looked up from her magazine, aware that the surprise was still written on her face. “Do I even want to know who started it?” There was nothing she could do about it, at least it sounded better than being fired.

Melvin shrugged. “Someone in HR apparently. DiNozzo is surprisingly not running a pool.”

“He knows better.” It was one thing about Anthony DiNozzo, he knew when the jokes were over.

Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, he stood and slipped it on. He could see the young girl relax and he made a mental note to leave his weapon in the car, although he doubted there would be a next time. The action drew her attention away from her magazine.

“Now you decide to leave?” She teased, smiling despite feeling quite the opposite.

Melvin raised an eyebrow, wondering if he’d ever get used to not hearing her sarcastic tone everyday. Fixing his collar, he straightened his tie. “My rides here, I have to get back to work. If you ever need-”

“I’ll call you.” She finished his sentence for him. “Thank you.”

It was the first time he truly smiled at her, his usually stoic features brightening.

Left alone with her thoughts, she allowed herself to scan the room. Most of them had someone sitting with them, trying to pass the time. Casting a glance at the nurses station, she saw that the nurse helping her was still on the phone. Jenny chewed the inside of her cheek, it was her first session of chemotherapy and she wasn’t exactly sure what to expect.

The nurse finally ended the call, giving her a thumbs up. She tried to muster a smile, knowing that she was simply doing her job.

Closing the magazine, she dropped it on the small table next to her. Resting her head against the back of her chair, she closed her eyes. The oncologist had sent her for radiation therapy the week before, explaining that he was placing her on a strong treatment course to try and stop the cancer from spreading too far.

The calloused fingers grazing her skin, had her open her eyes.

He smiled down at her, the tired lines on his face telling her he hadn’t slept at all since the last time she saw him. She sat up, noting the two Styrofoam cups in his hands. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and his red USMC hoodie.

“Jethro, what are you doing here?” It was the first thing she could think of to ask. It occurred to her that Ducky might have done some snooping to find out more for him.

Moving the chair so he could look at her better where she was seated in the recliner, he took a seat. Offering her one of the cups, he sat back in his chair. “Melvin needed a ride to the Navy Yard.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow, wondering if there was more to his answer. Bringing the cup closer to her lips, she immediately noticed the scent. “Is this ginger tea?”

He sipped from his own cup, savouring the taste of the dark roast. “It’ll help with the nausea.” He noticed her suspicious look. “Ask Duck if ya don’t trust me.”

Shaking her head she placed the cup on the table beside them. Leaning back, she watched as he instinctively familiarised himself with his surroundings. There was no reason for him to be here, as kind hearted as Melvin was, she didn’t want Jethro to see her go through this.

“You don’t have to be here, Jethro. I don’t think your new Director is going to be too fond of you playing hooky on his first day.” He seemed to drag his eyes away from the _Cosmopolitan_ cover, blue eyes twinkling.

“He’ll survive.” He threw at her casually. “’sides took a few days off.”

Jenny sat up, noticing the nurse coming towards them.

Drinking his coffee slowly, he listened as the nurse explained that they were going use an IV for the treatment. He returned the young woman’s kind smile as she looked between them. Placing his cup on the armchair, he watched with clenched teeth as the nurse slowly inserted the needle. He noted the colour drain from Jenny’s face.

“Jen, look at me.” He drew her attention away from the needle. Sometimes he wondered how someone as squeamish as her had managed to survive autopsy. “It’s no worse than your first visit with Ducky.” It earned him a glare, at least he’d managed to momentarily distract her.

“Yeah, well you two were behind that from the beginning.” Jenny grit through her teeth. She could see the nurse’s poorly disguised interest in their conversation.

He shrugged, so maybe he asked Ducky to be a little more descriptive than usually when he met the new probie. He’d done that with all his probies. “Passed ya, didn’t I?”

Jenny narrowed her eyes at him. “We both know why.” He gave her a lopsided grin at what she implied.

“As the doctor discussed with you, there will be some side effects. But if anything feels abnormal or you’re worried feel free to call anytime.” The nurse interrupted when the silence continued. “You might experience some burning, a number of patients do. If it becomes worse I’ll be at the nurses station so don’t hesitate to use the call button.”

Thanking the nurse, she gave them a bright smile and tended to the other patients.

Jethro eased back in his chair, watching as Jenny stared up at the roof, the wheels in her head turning. He couldn’t remember the last time they had reminisced about their past. He made it a point not to think about it all too much. Spending the better part of the weekend with the news made him relive their time together. The last time he’d seen her outside of the office in a personal capacity had been with Carson.

“You okay, Jen?” He could see she was fighting the pain, reminding him of the time she’d taken a round to the thigh.

She simply nodded, avoiding any possibility of looking at him. Closing her eyes, she tried to breath through the burning sensation travelling through her arm. Swallowing, she opened her eyes, finding Jethro leaning his elbows on his knees as he watched her.

“Please go home.” She didn’t want him to see her go through this. The last time she had radiation therapy, she had spent the following day throwing up. She didn’t want to know how she was going to react this time. “Go back to work, get back to your team. I can take care of myself. I know Melvin meant well, but I don’t need someone to hold my hand.”

Shaking his head, he offered her the cooling cup of tea. The lines around her mouth relaxed as she accepted it from him. He understood her need to hide her pain, she was stubborn. Years of working as an agent and then being Director had shaped her into not showing weakness, or rely on anyone for anything. It’s what he admired about her the first day he met her.

Taking the cup after she took a drink, he placed it back on the table. Trying to read her expression, he reached out for her hand, noting how cold and pale her skin was. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he felt her softly squeeze his fingers in return.

“I just wanna be your friend, Jen.”

* * *

_**TBC...** _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Gibbs seems out of character, I know it might be frustrating to some readers. This story really pushes the boundaries of having to figure out how the characters would react in this situation.


	3. Take Your Best Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was interesting to write and presented quite a few challenges. Figuring out the NCIS timeline is honestly not a very easy task, there are just too many inconsistencies when you sit down and try to figure it out. I tried my best.

The phone in his pocket was vibrating as he tried to navigate mid-morning traffic. Jenny was quietly staring out the window, looking a little too pale for his liking. They had spent four hours alternating between staring at each other and paging through a magazine. The uneasiness between them wasn’t all that foreign, they had been spending the last few months avoiding each other all together. Silence between them used to be comfortable, now it was simply suffocating.

Wrestling his phone out of his pocket, he saw Tony’s name flash on the small screen. He hadn’t told anyone he was taking a few days, only Leon Vance’s secretary. He was sure his Senior Field agent was a few minutes away from starting a search party. Silencing the incessant vibrating, he shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Ducky had phoned him Saturday morning, inquiring if he had talked to Jenny. The doctor had suggested he phone Melvin to find out where exactly Jenny was being treated. He cast a glance at her, the glare telling him she was unimpressed that she couldn’t drive her own car. He shook his head, easing into the quiet residential streets.

Pulling into the driveway of the old mansion, he killed the engine. Melvin had parked the truck right across the street, taking the federal sedan back to the Navy Yard.

Jenny opened her door, allowing the hot summer air into the car. He watched as she took a minute, seeming to find her footing. Knowing she’d brush off any help he offered, he got out of the car, waiting for her.

“Jethro,” he could hear the frustration in her voice.

The 45-minute drive across town had worn her down faster than she had expected. Pain throbbed through her, a side effect from the radiation that still lingered. “Can you…” It surprised her when he appeared in front of her, offering support as he helped her out of the car. A large palm settled on her lower back, softly rubbing in circles as they made their way to the front door.

The house was quiet as they stepped through the door, closing it softly behind him, he watched as Jenny slowly made her way into the living room. He doubted he’d ever been in there; she usually spent her time in the study. He followed her into the large room, noting the old wooden furniture and dark leather couches.

She lowered herself into one of the chairs, watching as Jethro stood around awkwardly, not sure where to sit. He moved the stack of books on the coffee table, taking a seat right in front of her. He fiddled with his watch and bracelet, avoiding eye contact. It was one of the main reasons she never told him, watching him try to process the treatment and the fact that it might not work. Cynthia had the same reaction, trying to be supportive and wrap her head around everything.

“Thank you.” She whispered. His head snapped up, blue eyes unreadable for a moment. He nodded, his face relaxing as she offered him a tired smile.

He sat back, straightening his posture. “You hungry?” Knowing her, he was sure she hadn’t had anything to eat before leaving the house. “Want anything in particular?”

Shaking her head, she paled at the thought of food. The nausea was still lingering from earlier and she didn’t want to aggravate it. Pressing her lips together, she gave in. “A glass of water, I need to take something for the pain.”

Giving her a quick nod, he disappeared into the hallway. Resting her head against the couch, she tried to relax. Depending on someone to do things for her weren’t at the top of her list, but she couldn’t muster the energy right now. The oncologist had warned her that radiation combined with the chemo was going to be more taxing on her body.

All she needed were a few days, and she would be back to her old self. There was a quiet curse somewhere in the hall as Jethro bumped into something. Sitting up, he stalked into the room with a glass of water, coming towards her. Taking a seat in front of her again, he passed her the glass of water.

He watched as she struggled with the childproof cap on the bottle, unable to pop it off. It ate away at him watching her struggle with such a simple task. He saw the frustration rise, tainting her pale cheeks. Reaching out, he took the bottle from her, ignoring the murderous glare she shot him.

Placing two pills in her palm, he placed the cap back on but didn’t close it. She’d be kicking him out sooner or later and would have to struggle all over again. She winced as she moved too suddenly, collapsing against the couch, she cracked her eyes open.

“Jethro, you really don’t have to stay.” It wasn’t fair to him, and she’d be sleeping most of the day away. “I appreciate you sitting with me, but you have work and a boat.”

He recognized her need to be alone, a few hours to himself might not be a bad idea. It wasn’t that late, he could still head into the office and finish the paperwork he’d neglected. Nodding, he stood, moving the stack of books back to where they had been. Feeling her soft hand slip into his, he looked at her surprised.

“Thank you for being there.” As much as she had despised the idea, having him sit with her in silence in the hospital had meant a lot. “Maybe next time I’ll buy you coffee.”

He offered her a smile, nodding his head. “You need anything, call.” Noemi had been given the day off, and he didn’t like the idea of her being alone. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “See ya soon.”

Licking her lips, she swallowed against the emotion s his action had brought on.  The last time they had shared any kind of affection she’d left him on an airplane.  Before he could disappear, she stopped him.

“Jethro,” he looked at her with a raised brow. “Please don’t tell the team.”

* * *

Saturday morning dawned  bright and sunny with no reprieve from the July heat.  She listened as the birds chirped in the backyard, breaking the deafening silence in the  neighbourhood.  Five o’clock was still too early to be up, but a life long habit was hard to break.

J enny sighed into her mug of coffee, enjoying the warmth against her lips.  In a few short hours the park a few blocks away will be bustling with young families and children enjoying the day out.  There was a stack of new books waiting for her in the study, a gift from none other than Cynthia. Taking a drink from her coffee, she leaned her elbow on the counter.

Usually she’d be elbows deep in case files, or running an overseas mission in MTAC. Life was decidedly dull without some world crisis that needed fixing. By the looks of things, her former assistant knew her far too well.

It had been  almost two weeks since  Jethro had brought her home.  There had been a part of her that had hoped he would ignore her plea to stay away. She’d half expected him to intrude on her privacy like only he could, but he’d simply dropped off the face of the earth. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head at herself.

M emories of Paris had been on the forefront of her mind recently. They’d gone down a similar road; she’d left without explanation or reason. Ducky had tried to reach out, but Jethro had been his typical self and kept on working.  Perhaps if she had made a different choice all those years ago her life would’ve taken a better turn.  The one thing sh e could thank him for was respecting her need for privacy on why she left this time.

T he toaster popped all of  a sudden, startling her.

The sound of the butter knife scraping over the slightly burnt bread echoed throughout the house.  It had never bothered her, being locked away in her study with the silence as her only company. In the last week it was slowly getting to her. There was nothing to distract her from the loneliness that seemed to hide in every corner.

A  sudden knock on the door stilled her movements. Listening intently, she waited to see if there would be another knock. The only person with no real concept of a visit being too early was Ziva David. She seemed to think that her co-workers all got up at 4 AM, a habit Mossad had drilled into her.  It was tempting to ignore the second knock as well. After all if she had been sleeping in, she wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway.

By the third knock she left her half buttered toast  o n the plate.  Knowing there was little she could do about her appearance, she tucked a tendril of h ai r behind her ear.  The brisk walk to the front door seemed easier than it had in days.  Not bothering to look who it was, she slowly unlocked the door, trying to prepare herself for the questions.

Jethro Gibbs looked back at her, dark circles under his eyes and his hair dishevelled.

“What are you doing here?” Although she hid the relief of seeing him again, she was still taken aback that he’d shown up.

J ethro wrinkled his brow,  taking in the fact that she was already dressed for the day. “Why are you up?”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let him in. There was a brief flicker of relief that she wouldn’t have to spend most of her day alone.  Closing the door, she looked at him expectantly. Prying information out of him was a feat in itself, and she doubted she had the strength to take him on right now.

H e seemed at a loss for words as he silently stared at her.  Running a hand through her hair, she licked her lips and watched him with narrowed eyes. “Did you need something? Or were you just in the neighbourhood and thought you might stop by?”

The sarcasm in her voice was a relief, and he allowed himself to relax. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The admission was earnest as he offered her a smile.  Nodding her head, she crossed her arms over her chest. “ Don’t go soft on me now, Agent Gibbs .”

Jethro shrugged out of his coat, hanging it up neatly.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a moment to study her. She didn’t seem as pale as the last time he’d seen her. He sighed, wishing he’d made the time to drop by.  He let the comment slide, knowing her, she would’ve kept any setback to herself.  He’d made that mistake once before in Prague, and he almost lost her.

“Caught a case when I left,” he offered as reason for his absence. “Locked the bastard up a few hours ago.”

S he nodded, offering him a smile this time. Running a hand over her shoulder self-consciously, she breathed in quietly. “ Do you want some coffee?”

The nod was the only answer he gave. Following behind her, he scratched at the back of his neck.  There had been  many  things between them that had been left unsaid.  Years of anger and frustration at the choices both of them had made.  Paris had been a simpler time, but the secrets they kept from each other only complicated matters.

He smelt the toast as they walked into the kitchen, aware that he couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent meal.  Relief washed over him, aware that she was feeling well-enough to eat.  The sound of his stomach growling was too loud to ignore.

T he amused look on Jenny’s face was enough to make him turn away from her. The small backyard offered very little distraction  as he pretended to look outside.

T he blue mug she placed in front of him was like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years.  She’d bought it for him as a birthday present the first year they were in Paris. They had left for Russia in a hurry, forced to leave a number of possessions behind for the  clean-up crew to take care of.  It seemed the mug had been important enough for her to hold onto.  It was large and bulky in his hand, reminding him of  every lazy morning coffee they’d shared.

H e looked at her, noting the way she leaned into him, clearly lost in the same memories. She seemed to shake herself from her thoughts, giving him an almost embarrassed smile.

“I grabbed it just before we got out.” She offered as explanation. “Things happened so fast after we had left, I forgot about it.”

T here was no point in bringing up the past by pointing out that she’d left him a few weeks after  their arrival.  She pushed away from him, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was leading.  Taking a swig from the mug, he appreciated the scalding h ea t washing down his throat.

Jenny placed a small plate of toast in front of him, her hand resting on his back. Raising an eyebrow, she stopped any argument. “Eat, I’ll make some more.”

Doing as he was told, he ate quietly as she placed more bread in the toaster.

Hip leaning against the island, he watched as she paged through the morning paper while eating.  It was impossible to miss the way she winced on occasion, or the pale look that occasionally crossed her face.  Draining the last of his coffee, he cleared his throat, catching her attention.

“What?” The question wasn’t unkind, and he knew she was waiting for an explanation as to why he showed up at her house at such an early hour.

“You doin’ okay, Jen?” There was a flash of annoyance that he knew all too well.

“I’m fine. Nothing has happened since the last time I saw you.” She turned her attention back to her paper.

Jethro rolled his eyes, knowing she’d be this stubborn. “Not what I asked. I…” He clenched his jaw unable to voice what he was thinking.  It bothered him knowing she was alone most of the time and that she refused any help people tried to offer.

T he office had been buzzing with rumours since the moment Leon Vance announced that he was the new Director.  Listening to everyone’s theories drove him insane.  He respected her privacy and had kept the news to himself when Abby and Ziva tried pressur ing him.

“How ya feelin’, Jen?”

“Now you’re a psychologist?” She couldn’t help the dig. It felt strange hearing him ask questions about her well-being. The great Leroy Jethro Gibbs never asked personal questions, at least he’d never asked her. He cared for his team, and that’s why Tony could turn down a promotion. Her relationship with Jethro had never really been professional.

Any emotional attachment between them was never discussed. They avoided any serious topics involving their relationship and when she had brought up her feelings for him he’d brushed her off. It had made her cautious of wearing her emotions on her sleeve, in a way she should thank him. He’d given her the necessary skills to survive in their line of work.

His lack of response told her he  didn’t see the humour or the irony in the situation.  This was why she didn’t want to tell him. The unknown was too much of a burden to carry and she’d prefer to do it on her own. Licking her lips, she regarded him for a second. He was tired, and he could’ve easily gone home instead of stopping by to see if she was holding up. Putting away her pride for the moment, she answered him as truthfully as possible.

“Today’s a good day.” She offered him a pained smile. “I haven’t had one of those in a while. Tomorrow, I might not be so lucky.” He was standing across from her, reaching out she placed a hand over his. “I take each day as they come. Nothing more I can do about it.”

H e seemed to accept her explanation. He placed his free hand on top of hers, running his thumb over her knuckles as he clearly tried to process  the information .  The tired yawn he let slip broke the sombre atmosphere around them.

“Why don’t you go have a seat in the living room and I’ll bring you some more coffee?”

He disappeared down the hall, leaving her alone with her thoughts. It felt strange having him in her home again. The last time he’d spent this much time here they had been undercover, waiting for the heat to  die down after she’d stolen that boat.  Shaking her head, she smiled to herself, back then she would have offered to take him to bed instead.

S he heard him shuffle around, nowhere near as quiet as he usually was. The re was a heavy sigh from him as he seemed to settle.  Making her way to the  coffee machine she grabbed  his mug on the way ,  filling it slowly while she sorted through her thoughts.

There seemed to be a sense of regret in his reason for dropping by. She knew him well enough  to know that he was trying his best to support her in his own way.  Silently cursing Ducky for wanting to help, she clenched her teeth, trying to think of a way to assure him she was fine on her own.  The relationship between her and Jethro had suffered when she’d taken over as Director.  Chasing after Ren é Benoit had ruined the  fragile working relationship between them.

G rabbing the full mugs, she headed to the living room.

He was stretched out on the leather couch,  a throw pillow under his head.  Stilling for a moment, she waited to see if he stir red .  It might have been a few years since the last time she’d  seen him like this , but the tightly curled fist under his chin told her he was fast asleep.

P lacing the mugs on the coffee table as quietly as possible, she grabbed the thin blanket she kept close by.  The last thing she wanted was to wake him, but by the looks of it he seemed dead to the world.  Covering him with the blanket, she b rushed the hair from his forehead.  He stirred and mumbled her name before settling back down. Tracing her fingers over his cheek, she felt him lean into her touch.

Quickly pulling her hand away, she stepped back, resigning herself to the recliner.

The morning seemed to pass slowly.  One of the books Cynthia had sent as a distraction had done nothing to pull her attention away from her uninvited guest.  He’d been restless for a few minutes, tossing and turning before settling back down. The soft snores were dying down, and she was sure he’d be waking up in the next half an hour.

M orning  had  ticked into afternoon by the time he woke up. He rubbed at his eyes, slightly disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. His head snapped u p, a slight glare on his face.  He relaxed when he saw Jenny, curled up on the recliner and absorbed in one of her books.

He groaned as he stretched, smiling at her a little sheepishly. Pushing himself up, he ran a hand across his face. He hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but his knees had been killing him. He pulled the pink blanket off him, folding it neatly as he tried to wake up a bit more. His mouth felt like cotton and his head was still heavy with sleep.

“Feel better?” Jenny asked, watching as he stretched out his stiff muscles.

He nodded, eyes still bleary with sleep. Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his hair. “Need the head.”

“Want some coffee?” She smiled at his pointed look, watching him trudge into the hall and disappear.

The bathroom door closed in the distance. Managing to get herself out of the chair, she tried to ignore the stiffness in her muscles.

The kitchen was warm with the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. The noise of the nearby park drifted through the open back door. She smiled to herself. She’d practically grown up in that park. Her father had spent all his free time taking her there. It struck her that she hadn’t been there in years, or at least not since her father had died.

The sound of running water from somewhere drew her back to the present. Starting the coffee machine, she took a seat at the island, waiting for Jethro to join her. He wasn’t one for being social, and she suspected he would be leaving pretty soon.

Silence settled once again, only to be broken by the front door opening and closing with a loud thud, the unmistakable squeak giving it away.

She sighed to herself. Goodbyes had never been their strong suit. It wasn’t strange to have him leave without a word. When they had been together, he rarely stayed over or even for the night.

The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder than usual. She’d hoped he would’ve stayed around long enough to walk with her to the park. She never should’ve let him stay, maybe if she had never told him about her health she wouldn’t be this attached to his support. The clock kept ticking.

Looking at the cordless phone, she contemplated calling Melvin. He was the only person she could trust at the moment to not pity her. Biting her lip, she decided against it. He’d become her friend over the last few months, but the last thing she wanted to do was burden him.

The coffee machine beeped as it finished. Giving it a disheartened look, she abandoned her spot. The house seemed just too quiet all of the sudden.

Standing in the hall she looked at the old family pictures. Over the last month she’d thought about selling the place. She didn’t have children and no surviving family who could inherit the old mansion. Her will had been drawn up and amended a few months ago. She could simply sell the place and donate the money. The only reason she still clung to the old house was to torture herself. A reminder that she had perhaps failed her father and in her revenge driven career she’d failed Jethro instead.

_Long live the Queen._

It felt like yesterday he’d spat the words in her face. She’d taken it on the chin, too consumed with anger and betrayal to give him anything more than a cold stare. The Ice Queen had become a moniker used far too often when the office gossip seemed to circle around her. Cynthia had always pretended not to notice the rude nicknames, but she couldn’t always hide her annoyance.

Him showing up at her door, wanting to know what was going on had been more than just Ducky’s doing. He was a curious man by nature. He would’ve shown up at her door sooner or later. Ducky’s concern had only made it harder for her to lie to his face. He was seeking forgiveness, the same way the old doctor had when he’d realised she was sick.

Melvin had called it false sympathy, a way for people to clear their conscience. As quiet and stoic as he was while on duty, he made up for it when he did speak. She often wondered if their friendship had simply started because he understood what she was going through from seeing what his sister experienced.

The front door opened again.

Jethro slung his go-bag over his shoulder, bumping the door shut with his hip. He caught Jenny in the hall, the happy look on her face replaced with something guarded and cold. He sensed the change in her demeanor, the sudden hostility in the way she set her shoulders. Perhaps he should’ve told her he was just getting a change of clothes from his truck.

Tilting his head at her expectantly, he narrowed his eyes at her. “You thought I’d leave without saying goodbye?”

She didn’t answer him, simply pressing her lips together and watching him coolly. He shook his head, pointing a finger at her. “Nah, Jen. That’s _your_ speciality.”

Jenny bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the flood of tears. The stinging became unbearable, and she couldn’t help but turn her back on him. The closest escape was the kitchen and she slipped away from him as quickly as possible.

The usual firm control she had on her emotions seemed to be slipping more and more each day. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she hurried to the backdoor, listening to the distant noise. She should’ve known that the easiness between them was just too good to be true.

The sound of footsteps carried into the kitchen ten minutes later, causing her to tense. The oncoming throb of a headache was already threatening to turn into a migraine, and she really didn’t want to make it any worse. He stopped behind her, and she could practically feel him staring at the back of her head. She didn’t dare turn around, fearful that she’d allow her emotions to get the better of her.

The silence, on the other hand, became too much. “What is it that you want, Jethro? A big-fat sorry for how things ended?” She finally turned around, noting that he’d changed his clothes. “It was nine years ago. You have to let it go.”

He clenched his jaw, the muscles rippling with frustration. Running a hand through his grey hair, he finally managed to calm down. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “Like that would’ve made a difference.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I was never your equal, Jethro.” It pained her to say it, but during their mission she’d noticed it more than once. “I told you the mission in Prague was a trap and you brushed me off.”

Moving away from him, she could feel the anger radiate from him.

“We were partners, Jen!” He snapped at her, anger tainting his cheeks. “Morrow was up my ass during that mission. I couldn’t abort it even if I wanted to.”

“I was your bed partner and a good time when you felt like it!” She saw the colour drain from his cheeks. “You’ve changed, I’ll give you that. You trusted Pacci and Burley, the same way you trust DiNozzo and McGee. I know you trusted Kate, and I hope Ziva has earned the honour.”

Rubbing at her eyes she bit her lip. “I _trusted_ you, but I was always going to be your probie who shot an innocent man.” Taking a deep breath, she saw him glare back at her. “I loved you, Jethro. I was young and stupid. I should thank you really, if it hadn’t been for Paris or what happened between us… I’d probably still be working as a field agent.”

There was no point in not telling him the truth, she’d always believed in secrets, but all that gave her was an empty house. “Besides, you met Stephanie after I had left. Guess you guys will always have Russia.” The comment was sarcastic and snide, but she couldn’t help it.

The friend Ducky had introduced him to had ultimately ended up being ex-wife number three. She didn’t particularly feel sorry for him. Stan Burley had told her not long after she’d been assigned her own team, he’d also been the only one who had tried to stay in touch. She’d spent the last nine years pretending she had stopped loving him the day she walked away.

Jethro scrubbed a hand over his face, watching as tears slowly rolled down her cheeks before she wiped them away. “You were a damn good agent, Jen. Knew I’d lose ya eventually.”

He frowned, trying to find what he needed to say somewhere in the distance. Turning back to her, he moved close enough so he could touch her. The lines had been blurred early on in their mission in Paris. It had clouded his judgement on more than one occasion. Especially the night she was shot. He’d fought Morrow on each technicality with that assignment.

“Jenny,” he caught her hand in his. “I cared about ya.” Licking his lips, he swallowed heavily. “I never thought any less of you when you shot that guy. Still trust you more than anyone.” He cleared his throat. He appreciated her honesty and the least he could do was return the favour. “When you told me that you…”

He gave a breathless laugh. “When you said…” Meeting her gaze, he leaned in closer. “Scared the hell out of me.”

They were close, her warm breath brushing over his lips as she exhaled. Swallowing, he leaned closer, aware that she still wore the same perfume. He felt her shift against him with practised ease. Her body moved against his, one arm slipping around his waist and her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. He closed his eyes as she slipped her fingers in his hair. Tugging her closer as gently as possible, he tentatively pressed his lips against hers.

She kissed him back, strong and sure, teeth already nibbling at his lower lip. Parting his lips, he groaned as she slipped her tongue between his teeth. He’d forgotten what a great kisser she was. Lifting her up against him, he felt one leg curl around his. He could feel his lungs burning from the lack of air.

They pulled away slowly, noses touching. He cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her soft skin. The slight blush on her cheeks reminded him of the first time he’d kissed her. He met her emerald eyes, pupils dilated as she stared back at him.

“Should’ve done that the first day I saw you again.” He whispered against her lips. She seemed eager to kiss him back as he brushed his lips over hers again.

“Jethro,” she sounded somewhat breathless. “You know it never would’ve worked between us.” Moving away from him, she grabbed their washed mugs, trying to distract herself.

He frowned at her, irritated by her comment. “Worked in Paris.” They had a great time in Paris, maybe he’d brushed her off once too many. Looking back he’d definitely learned from his mistakes, maybe if he’d done things differently she would’ve told him about the promotion. He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d all but praised her in the recommendation he had written as team leader. Perhaps she already knew.

Placing a mug in front of him, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” Taking a sip of her coffee, she closed her eyes, briefly contemplating the odd turn her afternoon had taken. She doubted they’d really talk about what had just happened, avoidance had always been their go to. “I was Director, Jethro, can’t really sleep with my subordinates.”

He was about to retaliate, when she cut him off. “No, Paris doesn’t count. NCIS doesn’t have policies against agents having relationships, as long as it’s professional.” She ignored his not too subtle glare. “ _You,_ on the other hand, had the rule.” She gave him a pointed look.

The infamous ‘never date a co-worker’ had been his way of keeping his team out of trouble. She’d seen first hand the drama of team members dating each other. London had been a prime example of how messy it could get.

Jethro sighed into his mug, watching his coffee ripple. Feeling her fingers graze over his hand, he met her gaze. She had a soft smile on her face, one he’d only ever seen in Paris. She seemed younger, her eyes vibrant and the tiredness that followed her a little less prominent.

Tracing the calluses on his knuckles, she squeezed his fingers. “I never regretted our relationship.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Just wish I could’ve made different choices.”

He let her go when she pulled away, studying her as she moseyed to the backdoor. It wasn’t exactly the conversation he thought they would be having. There were many secrets between them, from her probie days to her directorship. It was both relieving and hard to swallow hearing everything she threw at him.

Their relationship had happened so quickly after he’d lost his family, a part of him had still been mourning when he met her. Her words echoed through his mind. He’d asked himself many a drunken night if he ever regretted what happened between them. Most nights it had ended with two-thirds of a bourbon bottle gone and no answer.

She suddenly spun around, breaking him out of his memories. He tilted his chin upwards, waiting for her to chase him out of her house again. She seemed to consider whatever was weighing on her mind.

“Do you want to go to the park?”

* * *

The afternoon sun burned the back of his neck, the thin t-shirt he had on offering little protection. He watched her covertly, relaxing as she seemed to soak up the heat. He could see her pale skin already turning a painful pink as they walked. Making sure to keep their pace slow, he tapped the brim of her cap a little further down over her eyes.

She grinned up at him, a sharp elbow meeting his ribs playfully. He hadn’t seen her this carefree in years. There had always been a meeting to get to or a mission to run in MTAC. The sound of children playing became increasingly louder as they neared the park.

It was filled with small families enjoying the day together. It was a surprise to see her truly embrace the summer heat and light breeze. Ever since his return from Mexico he’d somewhere lost sight of the young daring probie that challenged him on everything. She’d been the Director and his boss for the better part of the last year. He along with his team had only perceived her as bloodthirsty and revenge seeking after the ordeal with Tony.

Spotting an open bench, he quickly steered her towards it.

Stretching out his legs, he watched a small group of boys toss around a football. Propping an arm on the armrest, he tilted his head towards Jenny. She was watching the people around her, studying each of them critically. It had always secretly amused him how fascinated she was with people.

“I hate it when you stare.” She sighed, leaning back against the bench.

He dropped his gaze self-consciously, unaware that he was actually making her uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he shifted in his spot, pushing himself a little straighter. “How bad is it?”

Perfect eyebrows knitted together, she looked at him quizzically before it dawned on her what he was asking. Another sigh rushed over her lips and she slumped a little lower.

“At this moment, it’s not looking good.” She answered after a few moments of silence. “It’s not terminal, but some days it feels like it.”

Licking her lips, she turned to look at him. He seemed pained by her honesty, but there was no other way to put it. She’d had months to deal with it and maybe at first she had felt like her world had come to a grinding halt. On bad days it still felt like it, especially when the stairs in her home became inaccessible or her mood swings got the better of her.

“I never wanted to tell you.” She confessed. It seemed like she was doing that a lot today. Life had taken an unexpected turn for her and keeping secrets didn’t seem like such a great philosophy any more. “I didn’t even want Ducky to know, but I had no other choice. I just wish he hadn’t involved Abby, there was no need to worry her.”

There was anger in his eyes as he looked at her. “So ya thought hiding it and leaving without warning wouldn’t raise suspicion?”

Jenny rolled her eyes at him. “Peace never did last long between us, did it?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He raised his voice, drawing the attention of a nearby family. He settled back in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention.

Shrugging her shoulders in defeat, she finally met his gaze head on. He could see how tired she was, despite her good mood and healthier appearance he could tell she wasn’t herself.

“For once in your life, Jethro Gibbs, tell me what it is you want from me?” He was silent, blinking at her with dark blue eyes.

Jenny shook her head. “Are you looking for some kind of forgiveness? Maybe you want a clear conscience when this gets the better of me?” Balling her fists, she met his glare. “If that’s the only reason you keep showing up at my door, then please don’t.” Standing, she folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t need your false pity.”

He stared up at her, jaw clenched and his eyes hard.

Taking his silence for what it was, she turned her back to him. Adjusting her baseball cap, she made her way down the path, back to where they had come from. Maybe she’d been a little too optimistic about the trip, she could feel the fatigue settle over her as she continued back home.

The air was sweet as it blew through the park. Breathing in the warm breeze, she tried to enjoy the momentary serenity of it all. The group of boys with their football ran passed her, shouting as they went. She smiled at their excitement.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her, his touch felt heavy, burning through her shirt. As deserving as she felt of having his wrath directed at her, she didn’t know if she had the energy to deal with him any more today. Turning to look at him, she saw the almost apologetic look on his face.

“What is it? You made up your mind of what you want?” It was snide, but she was beyond the point of sparing him his feelings.

He didn’t seem to react to the sarcasm, instead he kneaded the tense muscles in her shoulder. His face grew softer, eyes a little more warm as he sorted through what he wanted to say. “I just want you to stop hiding from me, Jen.”

There had been a brief flicker of annoyance on her face before she relaxed into his touch. Taking it as a good sign, he continued on despite his scrambled thoughts. “No runnin’ away when things don’t work out.”

The argument died on her lips as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s not Paris.” Running his hand down her shoulder, he laced his fingers with hers. “No secrets, and no one shootin’ at us. Just you and me this time.”

Taking a deep breath, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. It felt strange sharing such intimate gestures with him again. They weren’t lovers, far from it, just old friends with too much knowledge of each other.

He slipped an arm around her waist, having noticed the fatigue. He started down the path again, feeling her lean her head against his shoulder. The silence was filled with the sound of the park bustling around them.

“You have questions.” She stated as they stepped onto the side walk, starting the two block trek back to her house.

He squeezed her hip. It was her way of letting him know she was willing to talk and he better take the opportunity to ask. There was bound to be a fallout between them; it could only ever lead to that once he started personal questions. Trying to keep an open mind, he squinted as the sun shone right in his eyes. Dropping his head, he met her guarded green eyes.

“Got a few.” He muttered as they slowly made their way up the side walk. He heard the soft sigh that escaped her. Scratching the back of his neck, he tried figuring out which question wouldn’t start a fight. Clearing his throat, he slowed their pace.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Svetlana?” He felt her tense, anger rippling through her shoulders. He didn’t fight her as she twisted out of his grip. Stepping to the side, he waited as she admired one of the rose bushes they had passed.

A sliver of the heartless Director he’d seen before slipped across her eyes. Emerald pools hard and cold, he swallowed hoping he’d finally learn the truth.

Jenny inspected a strand of hair, noting the unhealthy look in the strands. Pressing her lips together, she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. Toeing the gap in the concrete with the tip of her shoe, she stared off in the distance of the quiet residential street.

The ridged line of her shoulders relaxed, the colour in her cheeks slowly fading as she considered her answer. “I told McAllister to reassign me.”

A rush of air passed through her nose. Pressing her fingers against her forehead, she tried easing the oncoming headache. Pulling on the back of her cap, she turned her face towards the sun and squeezed her eyes shut. Opening them again, it took a minute for her vision to focus.

He was leaning against a lamppost, hands loosely folded over his lap.

“Told me to toughen up.” She placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head to herself. “You know what that old man was like.”

“Tell me what happened that night, Jen.” He kept his voice low. It was eating away at her, that much he could tell.

She broke his gaze, inhaling deeply as a way of gathering her strength. “Decker was on surveillance, making sure that her personal protection didn’t notice someone entered through the backdoor.” Sadness flickered across her face as she thought of Decker.

Licking her lips, she swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Everything went according to plan, one thing about Will, he always knew how to run an Op.” Rubbing at her forehead, she continued. “I was supposed to take her out in the main bedroom as soon as she came through the door. Decker had been watching her for weeks.”

He watched as she fought back tears. Jenny and Will Decker had been close friends, on occasion he’d been jealous of the younger man.

“I couldn’t do it, Jethro.” She looked at him, eyes almost brimming with tears. “She looked so scared.” She wiped at her eyes quickly. “Decker was shouting to take the shot and I just froze.”

Jethro grit his teeth, wishing he’d been there that night instead of halfway across Paris taking out Anatoly Zhukov.

“Will picked me up at the prearranged location just as I was emptying out the contents of my stomach.” She smiled at him sarcastically. The only other person who knew what happened that night had been Decker.

“What happened next?” Jethro pushed, trying to piece together how she’d managed to escape for 9 years.

“My cover was still intact, I made sure they couldn’t recognize me, guess that black wig I hated actually saved my life.” There had been several arguments about the damn wig. “Will took me back to the safehouse. He covered for me. He told McAllister I completed my mission, they were only ever worried about Zhukov.”

They both stared at each other awkwardly. She had left him not long after that.

The sun was starting to set, and he could see their conversation was taking a toll on her, he slowly picked up their pace again. They remained silent for a few minutes, trying to work through their thoughts.

In the distance he could see the old Georgetown mansion. He’d watched Mike Franks shoot Svetlana right in front of him. He wondered just how much the old man knew about Jenny’s diagnoses. It was another one of their mistakes that had come back to haunt them.

“Why involve Mike? Why not come to me?” He asked as they neared the corner, the old mansion a few houses away from them.

She looked pensive for a moment. “I needed someone who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty.”

A car passed by slowly, she watched as it drove by. Slowly crossing the street, she felt Jethro trudge along behind her, the dark look burning into the back of her head.

“I’m guessing Franks told you about Decker's insurance policy?” She looked behind her, surprised that he was hovering right by her shoulder. He gave a silent nod. “Then you know I couldn’t just let anyone get their hands on it.”

They neared the steps leading up to the old house. She took a seat, suddenly tired from their long walk back. Pulling off her cap, she noted the strands of hair caught in it. Ignoring it, she felt Jethro take a seat next to her. He felt warmer than usual as his arm brushed against hers.

“In the end, I probably should’ve gone in alone.” She said more to herself. Mike had swung by her hospital room after being missing for a few days. He’d tipped Jethro off when he’d left Mexico.

He’d told her that it had been a suicide mission from the get go and that his probie would be pissed if he let anything happen to her.

“You know the rest.” She sighed after the silence had become unbearable.

Jethro nodded, knuckles pressed against his lips. There was regret written all over her face, something she could usually hide better. She was physically tired and perhaps emotionally too. He hadn’t bargained on her telling him the truth, or anything for that matter. Secrets had always been her strong suit, never letting anyone know what went on inside her head.

The two months after the events of Los Angeles he’d seen the toll Will Deckers death had taken on her. Maybe it was her trying to cope with being sick that had cracked her usually indecipherable mask. It had taken a few favours to get there in time with a team of highly trained federal agents.

The fallout had been kept as quiet as possible, Svetlana’s death had been covered up as a home invasion gone wrong. He’d seen politics at work at its highest level, hoping to save face. It shouldn’t have been surprising that she had left the agency. Although he had expected her being fired but not stepping down. He swallowed heavily.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me, Jen?” His voice was laced with barely concealed anger. “The mission, LA,” he ground his teeth together. “We could’ve stopped this before she found and killed Deck.”

“You think I don’t know that!” Colour flared in her pale cheeks at the sudden outburst. “I’m not the heartless ice queen bitch you make me out to be, Jethro.” She snapped, pulling in a ragged breath. She felt light headed, squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed in slowly.

Grey eyebrows were pinched together as he watched her, knowing better than to touch her. He felt bad for pushing her a little too far. He’d been raising her blood pressure all day, and doubted it did her any favours. The colour drained from her cheeks again, leaving her looking pale and even more frail than she already was.

“Because of me, Decker’s dead.” The muscles in her jaw twitched. “A young woman lost her life because of the mistakes I made.” The death of Decker’s girlfriend was another mistake hanging over her.

“It’s not what I meant, Jen.” He said gruffly. Clearing his throat, he leaned his elbows on his knees. “You’re one hell of an agent, Jen.” Her confessions had forced him to do a lot more introspection than he was comfortable with.

Back when they had been undercover, he hadn’t been the easiest person to work with. He’d been a hard ass, something Mike had tried to smack out of him. It was his first team and maybe his mentor’s lack of praise had worked on a seasoned Marine but not civilians. The Paris mission had caused a lot of conflict the first few months. He’d brought it up with Tom Morrow that Jenny was still too green to handle the seriousness an Op like Paris required. McAllister wanted agents in Europe and probie or not, she was going with him.

He cast her a sidelong glance. “I should’ve told you.” He muttered, drawing her attention back to him.

“What?” She seemed confused despite her anger.

Jethro grit his teeth, stuff like this never did come easy. “Maybe… If I told you I trusted ya…” He trailed off, struggling to put everything into words. “You would’ve trusted me too. Wasn’t exactly goin’ easy on you in Paris.”

Jenny placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. “Would’ve ruined Decker’s career, he was supposed to kill her if I couldn’t. We tried finding her when I was assigned to work with Mossad. We never found her, guess we were looking under the wrong name.”

“Havin’ Abby back then would’ve made things a hell of a lot easier.” He said with a forced laugh, relaxing when she nodded.

“Jenny,” he spoke softly. “I never thought of you as _just_ a good time.” There was a little annoyance in his voice because of the earlier accusation. “Thought more of you than I did Pacci, Burley and Decker. You were smarter too.” He offered her a smile, noting the blush shooting across the bridge of her nose.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, exhausted. “We had some good times didn’t we?” The question surprised the both of them. She looked at him, waiting for his answer.

He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer to him. “Yeah.” He leaned in closer, kissing her gently.

She pulled away as he tried deepening their kiss. He frowned at her, slightly put off. He raised an eyebrow at her curiously. Pressing her fingers against his lips, she sighed heavily. She felt his warm breath brush her finger tips, almost breaking her resolve.

“Jethro, we can’t do this.” She tried placing some distance between them. “I don’t know what the future holds, and I’m not having you waiting around until I die.”

He clenched his jaw. “Ya sound pretty damn sure.” There was sadness in his voice, hiding behind his irritation.

Jenny dropped her head. “I don’t want you to go through this.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “Some days I’m not myself, others I barely get out of bed.” She was being candid with him, hoping he understood this wasn’t some quick fix.

“You don’t know that.” He whispered quietly. A part of him wanted to tell her he knew exactly what lay ahead. He’d watched his own mother slowly die and telling her that would only strengthen her resolve to keep him at arms length.

“Your not doin’ this alone, Jen.” He growled at her firmly. “Besides, you kissed back me.” He added with a smirk.

Jenny narrowed her eyes at him, shoving him playfully. “You’re a real pain in the ass. You know that?”

He shrugged at her, relieved to at least see her crack a smile.

“This is not Paris, Jethro.” She met his dark blue eyes, watching as he clenched his teeth and nodded.

“Don’t want it to be.” He answered truthfully. Neither of them were the same people they were 9 years ago. This time she knew about his family and, he knew what had driven her all these years. It struck him that he wanted to be there for her, she had no one else except Melvin. “When is the next appointment?”

Jenny looked up from where she’d been studying her shoes. He was being too sentimental and in was making her uncomfortable. “Uh… every second Monday, same time, same place.”

“Jen,” he said firmly, reaching for her hand and squeezing gently. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

_**TBC** _


	4. For Better Or Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some fluff, I stretched the characters a little out of their comfort zones, but I really loved writing this chapter.

Night had faded into dawn, and she’d watched the change of dark purple to bright orange through the open curtains. She’d spent the majority of Sunday exactly where she was now. The trip to the park had been more taxing than she expected, although reliving past mistakes hadn’t exactly helped either. Dark clouds were slowly approaching, threatening to turn the first day of August into a wet one. Pain throbbed through her muscles threateningly as she tried to push the warm covers off.

Jethro had left her to stew in her thoughts for most of Sunday, occasionally calling to check if she was feeling okay. She’d found it endearingly sweet as he tried asking without making it too obvious he was fussing over her. The sound of sandpaper and rustling had been enough to tell her he was elbows deep in wood shavings. Despite wanting him to keep her company, she’d left him to spend his free time with his boat.

Noemi had insisted on coming in on Mondays anyway, a ruse just to make sure she managed to get herself out of bed. The alarm clock blinked at her, 07:53. A loud clatter from downstairs eventually forced her to abandon the comforts of her bed and investigate what Noemi was up to.

Pulling on a pair of oversized sweats and a t-shirt twice her size, she wrestled the bedroom door open. If Jethro was going to insist on swinging by in the future, she was definitely going to put him to work. She couldn’t remember the last time any kind of maintenance had been done on the house. After all, spending the day watching one Leroy Jethro Gibbs prancing around in a tool belt was far more enjoyable than any novel.

Thunder clapped as she stepped into the hall, almost making her jump. Rolling her eyes, she made her way down the stairs, digging her sock clad toes into the thick carpet. The noise seemed to be coming from the kitchen as she descended slowly. The stormy weather wasn’t exactly in her favour. The thought of driving across DC almost made her want to cancel her session for today.

Another clatter had her brows knitting together. Noemi wasn’t usually this noisy when she was busy in the kitchen. She’d only ever seen the housekeeper upset once, and that had been when her former detail had tracked mud all over the freshly washed carpets.

Slipping her cold hands in the pockets of her sweatpants, she wandered towards the kitchen. The scent of breakfast wafted through the door as she slowly pushed it open with her hip.

“You are definitely not my housekeeper.”

The sound of her voice startled the intruder enough to prompt another clatter as the pan hit the stove. Jethro snapped around, glaring at her as he killed the flame.

“Jeez, Jen. Why do ya always do that?” he grumbled as he placed the last pancake on the neat pile he’d made.

Jenny smirked to herself. It was a rare occurrence to catch Leroy Jethro Gibbs off guard and scaring him was usually high on her list. The first time she’d managed to scare him; he’d been too concentrated on not burning down the kitchen than actually being aware of his surroundings.

“What are you doing here?” she retaliated, noting he’d managed to get the coffee machine started. Grabbing a clean mug, she filled it and topped up his as well.

“Told ya Saturday, Jen.” He answered with slight irritation, almost embarrassed that she’d managed to startle him.

She glared at him, taking a seat at the island and wrapping her cold fingers around her mug. “My appointment isn’t until eleven, thought you’d be at work.”

Thunder clapped announcing the sound of rain as it started falling. She sighed to herself. Cold weather didn’t cooperate with her these days. She could feel the ache in her shoulder from where she’d been shot, the stiffness making it hard to really use her arm.

Jethro was staring at her, a plate filled with pancakes right in front of him. He pushed the plate towards her, silently telling her to eat. She seemed paler than usual, holding herself stiffly as she picked at her food. He had thought it best to give her some space, knowing she’d probably want to work through her thoughts.

He’d needed time to himself as well, trying to figure out where exactly he’d gone wrong to lose her all those years ago.

“I don’t think I’ve had pancakes since we were in Serbia.” She mused to herself.

He looked up from his own plate, studying her closely. It had been a week of nothing but eating and lounging between the sheets. He didn’t miss her knowing smile as she averted her eyes back to her plate. He grinned to himself. Europe hadn’t been all bad.

He was relieved to see her a bit more relaxed with him being around. They finished breakfast in silence, listening as the rain quietly pattered on the back porch.

Slipping off her chair, she took their empty plates and placed them in the sink while he refilled their mugs.

He stopped next to her, pressing the mug into her waiting hands. She turned towards him, hair still mused and her large green eyes still a little bleary. Tucking a strand of her behind her ear, he pressed his palm to her cold cheek.

“You’re freezin’, Jen.” He muttered softly. Dropping his hand to her shoulder, he smoothed his palm over her arm, hoping to warm her.

She bit her lip, fighting against the fluttering in the pit of her stomach. He laced his fingers around her wrist, no doubt feeling her pulse thump nervously. He leaned closer, kissing her softly. He tasted like sugar and bitter coffee.

Pulling away she pressed a hand against his chest. Sighing deeply, she allowed herself to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. Blue eyes flickering briefly as she cupped his cheeks. “Jethro, you really have to stop doing that.”

Stroking the day old stubble on his jaw, she stared at his lips. “Things are different now.” She felt him tense. “I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”

He frowned at her, blue eyes dark as he regarded her for a moment. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he looked at her thoughtfully. “All I want, Jen…” He clenched his jaw, giving her a somewhat tight smile. “Just wanna be here for ya.”

Hands pressing against his chest, she scowled at him playfully. “You can be so charming when you want to be.”

“How’d ya think I got three women to marry me?” There was a cocky air about him as he grinned at her.

He smirked as she rolled her eyes. Casting a glance at his watch, he cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from the light drizzle outside. “Why don’t you go get ready? I’ll clean up.”

He noticed her face drop, the reminder that she had an appointment seemed to be weighing heavily on the both of them. There was nothing he could do to ease they pain from the side effects, all he could offer was his support. He swallowed down his hot coffee watching as she gave a dejected nod.

“You never answered my question. Where’s Noemi?” She stalled, drinking the last of her coffee and placing her cup with the rest of their dishes.

Jethro shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. Pushing up his sleeves, he started running water in the sink. “Told her to take the day, I’ll be around.”

Jenny smiled at him, subconsciously running a hand down his back. “Next time wear the apron.” She teased, narrowly missing his half-hearted attempt to swat her.

* * *

The atmosphere seemed to change between them as he followed behind Jenny into the hospital. She’d been quiet on their drive, hardly commenting on the on going politics that was broadcasted on the radio. He swallowed heavily as they found their way into the oncology wing, his heart thudding in his throat. He saw one or two patients wave at Jenny as she walked in. She returned the greeting, plastering on a fake smile.

He busied himself with a magazine as she gave her information to the nurse. He tried not to listen as they silently conversed. Dropping his gaze to the page, he’d opened he tried not to think about the next three hours.

It forced him to think about his mom and the few months he’d spent with her after finding out she was sick. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, he hadn’t thought about it in years. The touch on his arm drew him from his thoughts. Stuffing the magazine under his arm, he followed Jenny to one of the recliners, taking a seat next to her in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

Scanning the room, he noticed a young girl sitting with her mother, no older than the age he was when his mother had been diagnosed. Sighing, he eased back in his chair, watching the nurse set everything up.

Reaching for Jenny’s hand, he felt her lace her fingers with his, jaw tight as she watched the nurse search for a vein. He bit his cheek as her nails dug into his skin, trying to ride out the pain with her. He’d discovered during their mission in the Czech Republic that she harboured a fear of needles. The grip on his hand eased slightly as the nurse returned to her station.

He was content to simply sit with her, not sure if he’d be able to offer any kind of conversation. The first time hadn’t bothered him this much. He suspected that seeing the reality of what she was going through had finally sunk in. The memories of his own mother weren’t easy to deal with either. He’d spent whatever free time he had with her, helping her as much as he possibly could. Licking his lips, he felt the slight brush of Jenny’s fingers over his knuckles. He swallowed against the emotions, aware that he might have to watch her slowly slip away.

“You seem awfully pensive.” Jenny murmured.

He drew his attention away from their joint hands, trying to hide just where his thoughts had been. He squeezed her fingers, offering her a half-hearted smile. “Just work,” he cleared his throat, “it can wait.” He quickly interjected.

Jenny simply raised a perfect eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. He shrugged lightly, scanning their surroundings out of habit. “Vance has got Agent Lee on my team.”

Jenny smiled to herself, trying not to be obvious. A number of the higher ups had demanded an agent from legal follow the Gibbs team around. She’d vetoed the decision a number of times, all too familiar with the famous ‘Gibbs wrath’. Leon, on the other hand, clearly wanted to stretch his authoritative fingers. She didn’t blame him; Gibbs could be a handful on any given day.

Noting the deep frown on his forehead, she stroked his knuckles softly. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason. He’s probably saving you from an earful from SecNav.” He simply grunted at her, turning his attention to the magazine precariously placed on his lap.

Rolling her eyes at him good-naturedly, she leaned her head against the chair. She felt nauseous, an all too common occurrence for her these days. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried focusing on something other than the uneasiness in her stomach. Concentrating on the feel of Jethro’s calloused hand in hers, she tried to push every other thought out of her mind.

Finding him in her kitchen had been a rather pleasant surprise and had it been under different circumstance, she might have invited him upstairs. Time moved on and so did they, or at least she had tried. Their relationship had taken an unexpected turn over the weekend, and she was afraid he was getting attached to something that couldn’t end well. Opening her eyes, she looked at him aimlessly paging through another magazine.

She’d spent the majority of Sunday contemplating the choices she’d made in her life. Had she stayed in Paris and told him about the promotion would it have been different? There were no two ways about it . Their relationship would have suffered. He had his secrets, and she’d harboured her own. Given how quickly he had remarried after their relationship ended consequently created more questions and doubts.

Letting out a deep sigh, she quickly averted her gaze to the glass doors. She could feel him looking at her, assessing her. Chewing her bottom lip, she glanced at him out the corner of her eye, contemplating asking him about his third failed marriage. He’d done his fair share of questioning, it was her turn. Clenching her jaw, she let it go, there was no point in starting a fight.

The glass door swooshed open, drawing her attention. She stared for a moment, a little stunned to see him standing in the doorway.

Melvin scanned the quiet oncology wing, trying to spot the familiar face. Spotting the redhead near the door, he didn’t fail to notice the older agent that had accompanied her. He offered her a rare smile as he walked towards her as quietly as possible.

Squaring his shoulders, he moseyed towards them. “Ms. Shepard. Agent Gibbs.”

He studied them quickly, noting their hands clasped together on the arm rest. He turned towards Jenny, raising a curious eyebrow at her.

“Gettin’ coffee. Melvin?” Jethro stood, letting go of Jenny’s hand, sensing he was making both of them uncomfortable with his presence.

“No, thank you.” Melvin politely declined, watching the older agent silently nod and leave them alone. Turning his attention back to his former boss, he looked at her critically. “I take it Agent Gibbs took the news well?”

Jenny glared at him lightly, “Thanks to you.”

Melvin shrugged, not the least bit phased that he had pushed them in the right direction. The change in her was unmistakable, he could tell she was tired and that the coming few days were going to be hard on her.

“Doesn’t seem like you minded him holding your hand.” He teased, noting the paleness in her cheeks.

This time she shot him a glare he was all too familiar with, he held up a hand, aware that he had overstepped.

“You here to check up on me?” she growled at him.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her. He was used to people snapping at him. Years of working as protection detail had toughened whatever feelings he had left. She had never snapped at him like this; he usually turned a blind eye or took the flak when she broke protocol.

“Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.” He quipped as he took a seat next to her. The dark circles under her eyes were enough to tell him that she was suffering from a lack of sleep.

Jenny gave him a tired laugh. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed heavily, wondering how long they had before Jethro came back from his coffee run. Rubbing her forehead, she cleared her throat. “I don’t think he’s realized how serious this is.”

Melvin raised an eyebrow at her, curiosity getting the better of him. He waited on her response, wanting to see where exactly her thoughts were. She was quiet, twisting her free hand in her sweater. He knew the relationship between her and Gibbs was far beyond professional. It would’ve taken a fool not to notice the unresolved issues between them.

“What are you afraid of, Jenny?” He asked quietly. Perhaps he was pushing the boundaries of their friendship, but he could see there was more weighing on her than she let on.

She looked up from toying with her sweater, green eyes large. The tired lines on her face deepened as she considered his question. She breathed in deeply, her eyes flicking to the needle in her arm. She clenched her jaw, meeting his gaze. “Reality.”

He frowned at her, patting her hand as it rested on the armrest. “That’s not what’s really getting to you.”

“And how would you know?” She snapped at him, barely keeping her voice down.

He leaned forward, meeting her glare head on. “Because I’ve seen it before. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t prepared for this.”

She closed her eyes, biting her tongue. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Sometimes she forgot he dealt with his sister’s cancer. “But it’s not that easy. Jethro and I… it’s complicated.”

He squeezed her fingers, giving her another rare smile. “It’s hard on him too. There’s nothing he can really do except be there for you, so let him be.”

“You’re meddling.” She warned him lightly.

Rising from his chair, he saw the man in question make his way towards them. “I’m not blind.” He muttered as he stepped away from her.

“I should go, my sister’s probably waiting for me.” He quickly said goodbye, nodding at Gibbs as they passed each other.

Jethro eased himself into the chair, balancing the two coffee cups with practised ease, resting them on his knees. He could sense something had happened in the ten minutes that he’d been gone. Jenny seemed distracted, hardly acknowledging him as he offered one of the coffee cups.

“Jen?” He asked softly, watching as she drew herself from her thoughts.

“No, thank you. I don’t think I’d be able to stomach it.” She answered.

Placing the extra cup on the small table with the magazines, he sipped his coffee. He watched as she studied the room, hand twisting in the hem of her sweater. His brow knit together, trying to figure out what had happened for her to suddenly seem anxious. The coffee burned down his throat, giving him just enough of a push to satisfy his curiosity.

“You an’ Melvin…” He voiced, steeling himself for the fall out that might follow.

Jenny’s gaze snapped to his, green eyes dark and dangerous. He’d been faced with that specific look many times during her time as Director. Perhaps he’d pushed the wrong button this time. Not backing down from her glare, he cleared his throat. “Just askin’, Jen.”

Tension stiffened her shoulders as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you asking if I was sleeping with him?”

If he hadn’t known her better, he could’ve sworn she sounded amused at the thought. He simply drank from his coffee cup, aware that he might not like her answer.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t sleep with him.” She saw him relax the precarious grip he had on his coffee cup. “What’s it to you? Not like you haven’t been in that boat before.”

Jethro shook his head, a grim smile on his face. “Was different.” He mumbled barely loud enough for her to hear.

She frowned at him, seeing the pained look on his face as he finished off his coffee. Pressing her lips together, she leaned back in her chair. Melvin’s words echoed in her thoughts. Every time Jethro had tried reaching out; she’d rebuffed him. There was no reputation to uphold, or some image to fulfil, he’d seen her at her worst.

“No.” He looked at her with guarded eyes, reaching for his second cup of coffee. “He’s McGee’s age. A few years younger and he could be my son. Melvin was with me when I was first diagnosed. These last few months he and Cynthia had been the only ones aware of what was going on.”

Jethro grit his teeth. The thought of her trying to cope with all of this on her own left a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe if he’d tried figuring out why she had gone on her little suicide mission, he would’ve known before things had deteriorated so much.

“Don’t,” the sound of her voice drew him out of his thoughts. “Don’t overthink it, Jethro. I didn’t want anybody finding out about this.”

Reaching for her hand, he enveloped it, noting once again just how cold she was. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he nodded at her. She laced her fingers with his, resting her head once again and closing her eyes. Pressing his lips to the back of her hand, he sat back, hoping she’d allow him to be there for her.

* * *

The front door burst open as they struggled through the door. Jethro clenched his jaw, tightening his grip around her waist, he steered them towards the bathroom.

Supporting her weight as much as possible, he could feel her heave against him, trying to fight off the nausea. He grit his teeth as he almost slipped on the bathmat, feeling Jenny breakaway from his grasp as she fell to her knees. She doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach. Crouching beside her, he pulled her hair away from her face. Placing a hand on her back, he rubbed gently.

The floor was cold beneath them, the white tiles impersonal as he sat next to her. She leaned back, still looking pale. Taking the wash cloth Jethro offered, she wiped her mouth, hoping her stomach would finally settle down.

Jethro struggled to his feet. Taking the empty glass standing next to the basin, he filled it with water and handed it to her. He took the wash cloth, rinsing it out and hanging it over the side of the basin. Lowering himself to the floor, he pressed his back against the bathtub for support.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

She had mentioned she felt nauseous on their way home, something she’d been complaining about for most of the day. He offered her a tight smile, not sure if there was much he could do to help. She sipped her water, pressing her head against the cool wall.

“Not really.” Jenny gave him a tired smile, swallowing down another sip of water.

There was no point in lying to him. She did feel slightly embarrassed that he had to watch her be sick. It wasn’t the first time, but the mortification was still there. Reaching up, she flushed the toilet, allowing the running water to break the silence.

He seemed caught up in his thoughts as he stared at her, blue eyes looking right through her. Placing the water cup back in its spot, she tried pushing herself up. She grit her teeth, aware that she didn’t exactly have the energy to haul herself off the ground.

The slight pressure on her wrist had her looking up. He offered her his other hand, slowly helping her to her feet. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to stop the room from spinning. She felt her stomach churn, forcing her to swallow against the nausea.

“You gonna be sick?” He asked gruffly, already angling her towards the toilet.

She shook her head, a hand pressed against her lips. “I just need a minute.”

He could feel her resting most of her weight on him as she struggled to stay on her feet. Slipping an arm around her waist, he manoeuvred them towards the basin. Leaning a hip against the counter, he turned his gaze away to give her at least some privacy while she brushed her teeth.

He wasn’t going to bring up that she still seemed too pale to be feeling better, or that she was freezing. The water shut off for the last time and he finally allowed himself to look at her. She looked at him with dull green eyes, he frowned as she smiled at him tiredly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She mumbled, patting his chest.

“Like what?” He questioned, not sure whether she was coherent.

She breathed in deeply, slightly swaying. “So worried.”

He rolled his eyes at her, grabbing her shoulders gently as she swayed again. The colour drained from her cheeks as she allowed herself to lean against him. She sighed heavily into his chest before looking up at him. He weaved his fingers in her hair, massaging gently.

“Jen, you have to promise me something.” He looked at her earnestly. The idea of leaving her as sick as she was didn’t bode well with him. He took her raised eyebrows as indication that he should continue. “If you feel sick, you call me, Jen. I don’t care if I’m workin’ a case.”

She glared at him slightly, unimpressed. “I can drive myself to the hospital.”

“Sure,” he tilted her head backwards, “just call me.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance before agreeing. Despite clinging to the little independence, she still had left, she knew the reality of her situation. She could hardly stand on her own two feet, let alone drive herself to the nearest hospital. Jethro’s fretting didn’t help her realization much. He usually hid behind his claim that bourbon could fix anything. It was starting to sink in for him, she could tell as much from the stressed lines on his face.

“What do you say we move this somewhere else?” She tried steering them out of dangerous territory. Jethro nodded, running his fingers through her hair.

He was immovable, eyes wide.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily. “Jethro?”

He stared at his hands, unable to meet her gaze. Grabbing his wrists, she stepped away from him, realizing what had happened. She fought against the tears, forcing the lump in her throat down. He seemed pale as he stared back at her, not sure what to say.

“Jenny… I…” He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

There were two clumps of red hair in his palms. It suddenly felt like a chore to breath, not sure what he could possibly say to make her feel better.

He saw the tears well in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. She quickly took the clumps of hair and discarded them in the bin.

Jenny turned away, her back to him. He watched her in the mirror as she wiped at her eyes, her bottom lip quivering slightly as she tried pulling herself together.

“It’s been getting worse these last few days.” She turned back to him, eyes bloodshot. She sniffed against the tears. “I have bald spots.” She let a teary laugh slip as she tried wiping the tears away. Running a hand through her brittle hair, she stared at herself in the mirror. “Shaving it off seems like it will finally make it real.”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down her emotions. Dealing with feelings wasn’t exactly Jethro’s strong suit and she’d hate to scare him off. “Guess I’ll have to ask Noemi to shave my head.” It came out in a whisper as she toyed with the tips of her hair.

Jethro placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently at the tense muscles. He met her gaze in the mirror, the sadness in her eyes eating away at him. “I’ll do it.” He blurted. She tensed beneath his fingers. “If you want? Know my way around hair clippers.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip, meeting his worried blue eyes in the mirror. There wasn’t much of a choice. It was him or Noemi. Despite how long she and Noemi knew each other, she couldn’t imagine asking her to do something like this.

“Okay,” she nodded hesitantly, “let me just change.”

Jethro nodded, watching as she slowly made her way out of the bathroom. Taking a seat on the edge of the tub, he closed his eyes. The memories of his mother bombarded him. Swallowing down the emotions it brought on, he took a deep breath. It had been impulse to offer his help, not exactly thinking it through. It still bothered him; she hardly had the strength to carry herself.

He’d seen the embarrassment on her face when she’d finally looked at him. All he was concerned with was helping her. She was stubborn, rarely accepting anyone’s help even if she needed it. Watching her struggle was quickly chipping away at his defences, cracking the wall that just hid how scared he was of what was to come.

The sound of soft footfalls on the carpet alerted him she was back. Pushing himself up, he took the clippers and extension cord from her as she made her way into the bathroom. He recognized the grey FLET-C t-shirt as one she’d worn constantly when they had been stationed in Paris. He grit his teeth, realizing the shirt was far too big for her. It was the first time he could visibly see just how much weight she’d lost.

The hair clippers felt heavy as he tightened his grip around them. From what he could tell they were brand new and he wondered how long she’d been contemplating shaving off her hair. Pushing all his thoughts to the back of his mind, he watched her in the mirror.

She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking off loose strands. Toying with the tips of her hair, she gathered it into a ponytail, studying herself for a moment. The conflict was evident in her hazy eyes, not sure whether she should wait or just do it and get it over with.

Releasing the strands of red hair, she smoothed the locks down. Her hair wasn’t like it used to be, barely hanging past her shoulders. He could feel his fingers itch to run through her hair as she played with it. She finally met his gaze, the sadness in her features hitting him right in the chest.

“Like ripping off a band-aid, right?” The joke seemed to fall flat as they both failed to crack a smile. She squared her shoulders, looking herself in the eye. “Okay, do it, as short as you can.”

The clippers clicked on with a loud buzz, drowning out the silence. Jethro squeezed his fingers, trying to gather the courage to do this for her. Reaching up, he ran his hand through her long hair, watching as her eyes briefly flickered shut and his resolve almost broke.

He let out a heavy sigh, angling the clippers at the right angle. He realised she’d squeezed her eyes shut again, his fingers itching to switch it off. With bated breath, he slipped the clippers through her hair, watching as locks of red hair fell to her shoulders and finally pooled around their feet.

Pressing his lips together, he continued, watching as her hair slowly fell to the floor. A part of him was glad she’d decided not to watch. He doubted he’d be able to hide the look on his face. Of all the things that had happened to them over the years, he never thought they’d find themselves here. He could feel his throat tighten as he shaved off the last strands of red hair. Taking off the comb, he shaved the short bristles of hair that was left.

Grinding his teeth, he switched off the clippers, his ears ringing from the constant sound. He cleared his throat, trying to get her attention. She was gripping the edge of the counter, fighting against what ever she was feeling. Placing the clippers safely on the counter, he brushed the strands of hair off her shirt. Running a hand over her neck, he placed slight pressure there.

Jenny took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging as she tried gathering her courage. Green eyes blinked open.

She stared at herself in the mirror, her head cleanly shaved. Eyebrows raised, she met Jethro’s gaze with widened eyes. Biting her lip, she inspected the new version of herself, the _frail_ version of herself. It was finally her reality. She was sick and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Jenny?” Jethro asked quietly, he had foolishly hoped she would make some sarcastic remark.

He saw her bottom lip quiver, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at her own reflection. He tightened his grip on her, letting her know he was there for her. Before she could fight it, tears flooded her eyes.

Turning away from the mirror he felt her fight against the sobs threatening to slip past her lips. Pulling her closer, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek on top of her head. Feeling her sobs wrack through her body as she finally allowed herself to cry as he held her close. Running a hand up and down her back, he tried calming her down enough to catch her breath. Tears were soaking through his hoodie as she cried. For once in his life he wished there was something he could say to make her feel better. Cupping her cheek gently, he kissed her forehead softly, knowing it was the only comfort he had to offer.

* * *

The old grandfather clock ticked methodically downstairs as he listened to the silence. The constant hiss from the shower had been shut off fifteen minutes ago. Running a hand through his still damp hair, he ran his eyes over the large bedroom. He couldn’t exactly remember the last time he had been in this room specifically. The old dark wood furniture was warm and inviting, the soft lights only adding to the effect.

Rain dripped outside the window, the occasional tapping of water breaking the silence. He strained his ears, trying to listen if Jenny was okay. It bothered him that she still felt nauseous. She had tried to assure him that it was semi-normal given the circumstances, but he was still worried about her. That piece of information he kept to himself, she’d threatened more than once that she’d be kicking him out if he nitpicked every last symptom she had.

Jethro sighed softly, relaxing against the arm rest, a watchful eye on the bathroom door.

The knob turned, the door opening a few inches, allowing the hot steam to billow into the bedroom. He steeled himself. It had been touch and go the last few hours. The tears and raw emotions told him that she was dealing with her diagnoses head on. He knew her well enough to know she had simply brushed it off as something she’d be able to get through. He’d seen it happen in Paris years before, when she’d shot an innocent man and had tried to deal with the reality of it. He’d found her crying days later, finally dealing with her actions.

The years had changed her, hardened her to the point where she could simply take it on the chin. He frowned at the realisation, knowing that perhaps he didn’t know her as well as he once did years ago. There had been no after stakeout dinners this time round. She’d been his boss, there had been certain rules and perhaps this Jenny was far from the younger probie that had given him a run for his money.

The door opened, letting out the rest of the steam. She was dressed in soft satiny pyjamas, a very familiar black beanie covering her head, the yellow daisy reminding him that he’d seen it before. She smiled at him sleepily, looking better than she had all day.

He returned her smile, watching as she padded around the bedroom. The bathroom light clicked off and he settled further on the couch as she pulled back the covers and finally settled in bed. Settling on the painting hanging on the wall, he stared at it, trying not to make her feel uncomfortable.

She scratched at the beanie, adjusting it to sit more comfortably, fingers brushing over the little embroidered flower.

“You kept it.” He broke the unnerving silence between them.

He’d bought the beanie one morning in Paris when she’d continuously complained about her ears freezing. She’d griped about the lack of style and his detachment to the fashion world, but she’d worn it anyway.

Jenny smiled, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. There had been a lot of things she held onto after their time together had come to an end. The black beanie had been Leroy Jethro Gibbs expressing care in his own gruff Gibbs way. It was maybe a little childish, but she had never thought that they would be in this position ever again.

“I actually kind of like it.” She replied after a while.

She watched as he nodded, casting his ever present stare up to the ceiling, clasping his fingers behind his head. If anyone were to ask what had made her agree on him spending the night with her, she’d argue her defences were down. It felt strange having him in her bedroom, granted he was no stranger. Truth was, she didn’t feel like being alone tonight. He was perhaps the only person who had seen her at her worst before today. Given his poor sleeping habits, she’d at least have someone to talk to when she was laying awake at three in the morning.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in the guest room? Or just go home.” She didn’t want him to go home, but she didn’t want to subject him to sleeping on the couch in front of her bed either.

“Jen, told ya once, not leavin’ until you can keep somethin’ down.” He reaffirmed. They’d had this conversation only a few hours ago. As much as she’d assured him that it was something she dealt with regularly after each session, he’d insisted on staying.

They weren’t going to address how weak she seemed this time round. She had confessed that the last time she’d felt this bad had been after radiation. It didn’t seem right, bringing up her ailing health, especially not after the emotional day they’d had.

He frowned, once again staring at the ceiling. Nine years ago, the last thing he would’ve been worried about was sparing her feelings. It stung just a little that her experience with him had been far from ideal. He wasn’t exactly the easiest of people to be around, but maybe some days she had only filled a void. Clenching his jaw, he took a deep breath, hoping that the intervening nine years had changed him enough to make up for what he had put her through.

“Do you need more blankets?” Jenny lifted her head, trying to catch his eye. Receiving no response, she threw her blankets to the side. “I’ll get you some more anyway.”

“Where ya goin’, Jen?” He sounded almost surprised seeing her out of bed.

She gave him a strange look. “Did you even listen?” She sounded amused having caught him that deep in thought. “Do you want another blanket?”

Jethro shook his head, realising he’d been too caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t paid attention. “’m fine.”

He could tell she’d notice that something about him had seemed off, but she thankfully let it drop for now. He adjusted himself on the couch, ignoring the cramps in his legs from the awkward position, he’d slept in worse conditions.

The tapping returned as the water dripped, indicating it had started raining again.

“Never thought we’d be in this position again.” Jenny muttered as she finally settled among her pillows.

Jethro snorted, his laughter barely concealed. Her probie days had been filled with strange situations. Sharing cramped quarters wasn’t exactly a foreign concept, they had been forced to share crappy motel rooms whenever they had been out of town. Back then it was a choice of sharing with Pacci or Burley. Jethro had been the only one she trusted enough not to try and sneak a peek when she wasn’t looking. In hindsight there was probably more to their eagerness to share a room.

“Wasn’t all bad.” She sighed, reminiscing over days gone by.

Jethro smiled to himself, finally looking at her as she stared at him. “Nah.”

This time her sigh was a little heavier and he could tell that reality once again sunk in for the both of them. It wasn’t just her who had changed. He’d changed too, they were both older, hopefully a little wiser. He could see she was working through something, her eyes just a little misty as she touched the black beanie again. She suddenly looked at him, catching him a little off guard with how vulnerable she seemed.

“What’s goin’ on, Jen?” He noticed she had wanted to tell him something for most of the day.

Pushing herself up slightly, she took a deep breath. “I have to have surgery in a few weeks. I have a routine appointment in two weeks. If the treatment is working, they’re going to remove the tumour.”

He nodded, knowing that she was more stressed than she led on. “You want me to take you?”

She shook her head. “I’ve got it covered. It’s nothing major, just a yes or a no for the hospital date. It’s been set since the first time I saw the doctor, he’s confident that the treatment should be working.”

“But?” Jethro pushed.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her pride. “Will you go with me for the operation? Just to give me a ride there and back.”

Jethro nodded, reaching out he placed a hand on her foot, massaging gently. “I’ll be there when you go in and when you wake up.”

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be out of it most of the day.”

Shaking his head, he smiled softly. “Jenny, I’m not leavin’ ya.”

* * *

It was blissfully quiet in the old Georgetown mansion, Noemi had gone out to run some errands while Jethro insisted on sticking around for the day. He’d offered to make a pot of coffee, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The old leather chair was comfortable as she lazily paged through a few personal documents. It had been her father’s and she didn’t have the heart to get rid of it after he died. It squeaked whenever she moved around too much and despite how irritating it could be, she’d grown fond of its occasional protest.

There was a sense of trepidation hanging over her, the pages spread out before her was in fact her will. It had been drawn up shortly after she’d been diagnosed, a rather insensitive suggestion from her lawyer. Drawing up the documentation had just been a reminder of how her life had turned out differently from what she’d dreamed of as a little girl.

She had no children who could benefit from the wealth her family had harnessed over the years. All she had was distant family who had no contact with her whatsoever. Certain funds were allocated to be donated anonymously to NCIS, most importantly to benefit Forensics. She knew Abby worked miracles with what little resources they had.

The rest would be going to Jethro, except for a few antiques and art work that would be inherited by Ducky. The house and what ever wealth was left would be Jethro’s. She bit her lip, wondering how different her life would’ve been had she stayed with him in Paris. In some stupid fantasy that got her through difficult days, she imagined that just maybe there would’ve been a kid she could leave her fortune to.

Reaching up, she ran a hand over her smooth head. It was too hot for the beanie and she hadn’t exactly thought ahead of getting a head scarf. It felt strange, she’d been so used to her long hair. Cutting her hair when she’d taken the position as director had been a way to take the focus away from being a woman in a man’s job. It had worked for a couple of days, but the world of politics had simply not been ready for a woman in such a high position. She’d hated every moment of it and ended up hating the job towards the end.

She’d never miss her job, despite how much she had loved it or how good she’d been at it. It had been consumed by hatred and just a little too much heartache for her liking.

The doorbell drew her from her thoughts, allowing her to push the memories away. Gathering the documents in a neat pile, she locked them in her top drawer along with the unfinished letter to her main beneficiary.

“I’ll get it!” She shouted before Jethro could make his way to the door.

Ignoring the protest in her muscles, she eased out of her chair. It was far from being a good day but at least she wasn’t feeling sick. Padding out of the study and into the foyer, she ran a hand over her head self-consciously. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for whoever might be on the other side of the door.

She momentarily froze, torn between letting her new guest in and slamming the door in their face. Swallowing down the sudden taste of bile in her throat, she took a deep breath.

“Special Agent DiNozzo.” She greeted as neutrally as possible.

Anthony DiNozzo swallowed, not exactly sure what he had expected. If he were honest with himself, this would be a last ditch attempt to figure out where his boss occasionally disappeared to. It was no secret that his personal relationship with their former Director was far from friendly. It had taken a lot of convincing from McGee and Ziva to get him in his car and come see her.

Things between them were murky at best. Her undercover operation had nearly cost him his life and most definitely his heart. Resulting in a lack of care on his part when he’d been assigned to her protection detail in LA. Inadvertently it would have almost killed her if it hadn’t been for Mike Franks and Gibbs. Pressuring Ziva into letting their guard down resulted in her blaming herself for what had happened, and he knew they hadn’t talked since.

“Director-” He screwed his eyes shut, old habit. “Ma’am.”

“It’s fine, DiNozzo, you can call me Jenny.” She tried easing the awkwardness of the situation.

She wasn’t exactly sure where they stood with each other. There was anger and regret and if she could go back and change things she most probably would.

Those ever humorous green eyes were lacking their usual mischievous sparkle as they darted over her. She knew what she looked like. There were dark circles under her eyes. She’d lost more weight than she cared to admit and shaving her head just added to the reality of everything. She knew there was something important going on at work if he’d shown up here, no doubt looking for Jethro. The man in question had been ignoring calls from his new Director all day.

“I take it you’re here for a reason?” She seemed to startle him, despite his very obvious stare.

“Uh… Yeah, not really.” He gave her a nervous smile. “Just wondering if Gibbs was around.”

She nodded, thankful that her instincts were still spot on. “I’ll go get him for you.”

“No!” He straightened up, not sure if he wanted to face his boss. “Just wanted to make sure he wasn’t crushed under his boat.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, realizing it was partially the truth but there was more weighing on him than just concern for his boss. Motioning for him to step inside, she led him to her study, knowing that Jethro would most likely give them some privacy.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but I know you’re still on duty.” She walked around her desk, taking a seat in her chair, listening to the squeak as she turned it to face Tony.

He gave her a forced grin, their past slowly catching up to them. During Gibbs’ brief retirement he’d spent a number of nights in this very study. Trying to cope with leading a team he didn’t exactly want at the time. There had been whispers that they shared more than just a professional relationship, but he knew there was far too much history between Jenny and Gibbs for her to ever look his way.

Knowing what he did now, it had been her way of breaking down his defences enough to drag him into the mess that was Jeanne Benoit. He had to give her credit. She definitely knew how to work people until they did what she wanted. Ducky had always mentioned that her directorship had come as no surprise to him.

Looking at her now, he felt sorry for her. The months leading up to their internal investigation and the months after, he’d spent a significant time hating her. This only confirmed the rumours of her being sick. They had all been sure she’d been asked to leave, NCIS’ way of avoiding a fallout about what exactly their esteemed Director had been up to.

“Tony, spit it out before it chokes you.” Jenny sighed as the silence drew on for far too long.

“You knew things between me and Jeanne had gone too far. Why didn’t you pull me from the Op?” He sneered at her, the harsh tone cutting through the tense air. “Oh, right! Because you only ever cared about the job.”

Jenny grit her teeth, taking his anger on the chin as much as she could. “It was my job, Tony. If I’d known you’d get too involved I never would’ve asked you to do it.”

“Bull!” He snapped at her. “That’s what you wanted. I might not have seen it then, but the whole operation was about you getting revenge over something you can’t even prove.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair, the emotions he’d bottled up finally spilling out. “Tell me, Jenny?” He waited until she met his gaze. “Did you kill René Benoit? Was Trent Kort simply covering for you?”

Squaring her shoulders, she made sure not to have her emotions slip. “Would it make a difference, Tony?” She saw his brow knit slightly. “Benoit would still be dead, and Jeanne still would’ve left.”

He glared at her, eyes dark with anger.

“I know what it’s like, falling in love undercover. It’s never real and never will be. Even if she did stick around, how long would it have lasted? She would’ve questioned everything about you, it never ends well.”

He ground his teeth together, knowing there was some truth to what she was telling him. In part he should be blaming himself as well, he’d allowed his emotions to get the better of him. He knew the risks of going undercover, he’d been a cop and Special Agent long enough to know he’d been too intimately involved with his target.

“You fall for your target too?” He tried hiding behind his daring question, hoping she wouldn’t realize he was rethinking everything that happened.

She looked at him for a moment, knowing that whatever she said couldn’t be held as blackmail or a threat. Movement close to the door caught her attention, and she knew they weren’t alone any more. “Not exactly, but it wasn’t any easier walking away.”

Pressing her lips together, she studied him for a moment. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Don’t apolog-”

“I don’t care much for that rule.” She spoke slowly. “I can’t change what happened, even if I wanted to. You’re a fine investigator, Anthony DiNozzo. If I could do things over, I never would’ve involved you.”

Tony sat up, watching as she shifted in her chair uncomfortably. He studied her for a few minutes, noting the stiffness in her posture. He’d spent a lot of time with his mom when she’d been sick and he suspected that due to Jenny being sick she was slow to heal.

Meeting her intense green gaze, he gave her a soft smile. “Maybe we can call it even.” He saw the confusion cross her face. “I didn’t do my job in LA and it very nearly killed you.”

Jenny waved her hand at him, trying to brush off everything that had happened in LA. “Wasn’t your fault. I didn’t want you or Ziva involved in my mess again.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of his phone ringing cut him off.

The conversation was brief and to the point as he spoke, agitation crossing his face occasionally as he listened.

“No, Director, I don’t know where Agent Gibbs is. I’m working on it.”

The line ended, and he slipped his phone back in his pocket. Standing, he watched Jenny get up from her chair, holding up a hand he stopped her. “I can show myself out.” He offered her a patent DiNozzo smile. He said a quick goodbye before heading for the door.

“DiNozzo, you ever lie to me like that?”

Tony grinned at her, the ever mischievous look back. “Never, Madam Director.”

The door clicked shut and she shook her head. The conversation had been long overdue, and she was glad that she could at least apologise to him for what had happened. She doubted he was any closer to forgiving her for what happened, but it was a start.

Jethro appeared around the corner, leaning against the door of her study. She watched as his gaze darted over the room. There was no doubt that he’d heard the majority of their conversation and she could see he had some questions of his own.

La Grenouille would forever be the black mark on her impeccable career. He seemed tense, the laziness he’d been carrying with him having disappeared. She could feel her shoulders sag at the thought of what was to come. Jethro liked to nitpick and there was no doubt that was exactly his intentions.

“Your boss seems to be looking for you.” She informed him as he stepped into the study. Moving around a few scrap pieces of paper and pencils, she tried to look busy.

“He can wait.” He sat down across from her, blue eyes cold.

There had been only so much pretence she could manage before the walls around her started cracking. She was too tired to ignore the bigger issue between them. He wanted to know the truth about who killed René Benoit and she wasn’t exactly sure she was ready for that conversation.

“Just ask, Jethro.” She could feel the fatigue slowly creep up on her. It wouldn’t be long before she started fighting to keep her eyes open.

“Who killed him?”

Jenny’s eyes strayed to the picture of her father smiling, familiar green eyes looking right back at her. The internal investigation had been a man hunt. In hindsight she should’ve seen it coming. She’d closed in on him too easily for his handlers liking. La Grenouille had become a liability, perhaps she had played a little dirty. Involving Tony with Jeanne was a cheap shot, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea.

“Would it make a difference?” She reiterated her question from earlier, knowing she sounded like a broken record.

“Damn it, Jen!” He growled at her. “Just tell the damn truth!”

She felt her blood pressure building. She could tell that he already knew the answer. He just wanted to confirm his suspicions. Allowing her eyes to stray to the picture of her father again, she bit her lip, trying to come to terms with what she’d done.

For a moment she stared at herself in the small reflection of the glass. She seemed broken down, looking worse than she had this morning. The paleness in her cheeks intensifying the dark circles under her eyes. There was no way she could change the past, the future seemed rather bleak and she doubted Jethro would be sticking around after learning the truth. Rather it be from her than finding out from Trent Kort after she died.

“Yes, damn it! I killed him.” She felt her pulse skitter in her throat at the sudden burst of anger. “Kort was a means to get close to him. The CIA sanctioned his death. They were in on my operation from start to finish.”

Jethro stared at her momentarily, thrown off by her confession. “What the hell were you thinking? You couldn’t take out your target nine years ago, but you can kill him in cold blood?”

“That’s rich coming from you!” Jenny snapped back at him.

“What?” He seemed confused for a brief second.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Pedro Hernandez.”

The colour drained from his cheeks, eyes growing impossibly hard as he glared at her. She knew she’d hit a nerve. Despite how sensitive the subject was, she wasn’t going to let him accuse her of something he was equally guilty of.

“I saw what happened with Ari. He killed one of your agents. Are you really going to stand there and deny you hunted down the man who killed your family?”

Jethro’s cheeks were flushed with anger, chest heaving with each breath he took. “He killed my wife and daughter.”

“Benoit killed my father! The same way I killed him.” She stood up, grabbing the desk to stop her from swaying. “Don’t you dare judge me for something you’re guilty of as well.”

The muscles in his jaw quivered as he grit his teeth.

“What? Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to piece everything together?”

It felt harsh, throwing it back in his face. She wasn’t going to stand idly by, enduring his judgement when she knew for a fact that he’d done the same thing.

The sudden sound of his phone ringing broke the atmosphere around them. Jenny sank into her chair, feeling drained as it offered her its silent support. Jethro disappeared into the foyer for some privacy. She bit her lip, knowing that she’d pushed maybe a little too far in her defence.

She listened as he alerted whoever was on the phone that he’d meet them. Assuming it was a case, she sighed softly, everything else would have to wait.

He appeared in the doorway, blue eyes emotionless and cold as he looked at her. It was the same look he’d had for the last few months up until she resigned. Realisation dawned on her that she’d finally managed to push him away, perhaps for good. She could feel tears well in her eyes, it hadn’t been her intention but the instinct to protect herself had been fierce.

“What you did and what I did…” He answered darkly, his tone flat. “It’s not the same.”

He pushed away from the door frame, hardly sparing her a glance long enough to realise he’d hurt her.

Jenny grit her teeth, watching as he turned and left. The door slammed shut, she sank into her chair, unable to fight the tears any more. She had a feeling that it was the last time she’d see him.

* * *

_**To Be Continued** _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Ducky insinuates in Hiatus Part 2, that Gibbs killed Hernandez, not realizing he was right. I’ve always thought Jenny would’ve been able to piece everything together given how well she knew him.


	5. We'll Make It Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story. It means so much to see everyone’s thoughts. The story has taken on a life of its own and it seems like it will be longer than I originally intended. I’m enjoying the exploration of this story. As always, I try and do as much research as I possibly can, but Google is only reliable to a point. I’ve switched up the season 6 canon to fit better with the story, just in case it gets confusing.

The waiting room smelled like antiseptic, a smell that never bode well with her. It reminded her of too many close calls and three stressful days in Positano. She swung her foot in the air, trying to force the time to get a move on. She’d been waiting for almost an hour. Years of stakeouts had taught her patience in any type of situation, but her nerves were more than frayed by now.

There was a possibility of the chemotherapy not working. Ducky considered Doctor Matthew Geiger one of the best oncologists in DC, but she couldn’t help but expect the worst. She briefly wondered if maybe she should’ve asked Ducky to accompany her. He was the only one she really trusted to tell her the truth about her prognoses. She shifted in her chair. The doctor had ordered a more up to date screening to see if the chemo was working. Suffice to say, she was sore, and more than a little embarrassed despite how professional the technicians had been.

Touching the dark green silk headscarf, she looked around a little self-consciously. It was the first time she was out in public since she’d shaved her head. She had turned into quite the homebody these last few weeks. Noemi had helped her try to figure out how to wrap it. A feat that had seemed impossible, but two weeks in and she finally got the hang of it.

“Miss Shepard, the doctor will see you now.” The young receptionist smiled at her warmly as she got up from her seat.

Biting her lip nervously, she slowly made her way down the short corridor. Last night she had wondered if she should tell Jethro she’d found someone else to take her to the hospital for the surgery. There was no one in particular who she could ask, and Melvin would be out of the country. The thought of facing him after what happened wasn’t exactly something she was looking forward to.

She had tried phoning Gibbs, but each time he either couldn’t talk or simply ignored her calls. That conversation had been on repeat the last two weeks, reminding her she’d maybe gone too far. In all honesty, she doubted he wanted to see or talk to her. It was hard to accept she’d killed a man in cold blood. She still had nightmares.

The door was open. She stepped into the small office. Doctor Geiger sat behind his desk, snow white hair parted in a neat side parting, his thin frame bent over an ultrasound scan. He looked up from the grainy scans in front of him, a warm smile lighting up his face. He wore small delicate framed glasses, intelligent brown eyes studying her as she took a seat in front of him.

“Miss Shepard, how are we this morning?”

For a moment Jenny froze, not sure how to answer the question. “Good.” It seemed like the safest route to go, even if she felt far from it.

“I’m happy to say that according to your scans you have been reacting positively to the treatment. The tumour seems to have decreased enough in size for us to operate.” Geiger looked up from the scans.

Jennifer Shepard was an interesting patient, especially with the small entourage that used to follow her around. He knew she was scared, even if she did try and hide behind the steely look in her eyes.

Jenny nodded, a small wave of relief washing over her. “What’s next?”

Geiger took the small glasses off, sitting back in his chair. He slipped them in his breast pocket, “I still want to operate on the 14th of September. Like we discussed before, because the cancer has spread to the breast’s skin we will have to do a mastectomy.”

Jenny nodded, grinding her teeth as the doctor continued to speak.

“Due to the stage of breast cancer and your previous lab results, we will remove the lymph nodes affected as well. Because of the HER-2 factor, you will still have chemotherapy after the surgery to avoid the possibility of the cancer returning.”

Geiger watched his patient carefully. It was a lot of information to take in and given the lack of support, he hoped she wasn’t too overwhelmed. “If you are considering breast reconstruction, I’ll advise you to wait until you are finished with chemotherapy before starting the process just to avoid complications. Do you have any questions?”

Jenny shook her head slowly, trying to process the information.

“I’ll have my secretary send you all the necessary paperwork, and I’ll see you again on the 14th.”

Standing, she gave the doctor a nervous smile as he shook her hand. He could sense that she was having a hard time working through everything.

“Miss Shepard,” he stopped her before she managed to slip out the door. “I need you to be positive. We’ll get you through this.”

Jenny smiled at him again, he sometimes reminded her of Ducky. “Of course.”

* * *

Late afternoon sun washed over the backyard, heating the back patio. The neighbourhood was softly buzzing with noise as people slowly started returning home. Jenny paged through the paper, it was the same article each day. During her directorship the press had hounded her, a woman running an agency that was perceived as male dominated had opened her up to a lot of scrutiny.

She’d learnt early on in her career how to deal with the press. Jethro had a tendency to be made the bad guy whenever the press hounded his crime scene. It had been one of the many headaches she had to deal with as Director. For someone who was considered by his team as a functioning mute, he sure knew what to say in front of the press.

Those first few years had been entertaining. Pacci and Burley knew how to run a betting pool, a tradition that was luckily carried on by Tony DiNozzo. Jethro had been different back then, making sure to keep those two guessing for weeks. He’d changed after Paris, hell, all of them had changed. She bowed her head, thinking of Pacci and his untimely death.

Burley had matured, that much she could tell from the few times their paths had crossed. Jethro had changed more than most of them. He’d been there when Pacci was killed and a year later he’d lost Kate. The team dynamic had changed too, they had all been closer in age back then as opposed to the current team.

Sighing, she reached for the bottle of water. The condensation on the bottle rolled down the side, dripping on the paper. Taking a slow drink, she put it back down.

The uninterrupted peace and quiet were something that she was struggling to get used to. Her days were usually filled with meetings and operations being orchestrated, there were cases to review and politics to be discussed. It had been her strong suit, negotiating until she got what they needed to make sure the agency ran smoothly. There had been days where she’d been thankful that she wasn’t carrying. It felt strange not having her door slammed shut every other minute because a certain agent didn’t get his way.

In all reality she missed him. She’d hated being stationed with Mossad, although she’d enjoyed working with Ziva, it hadn’t been the same. Jethro had been her first and only partner, Paris had forced them to trust each other explicitly no matter what happened. She’d trusted Ziva, especially after she’d saved her ass in Cairo, but there had been but there had been a fair share of mistrust.

Ziva had come a long way from being the young twenty something woman who had been trained to kill. She’d insisted on bringing the Mossad Officer with her. If she had known it had been part of the plan to rein in Ari, she might have reconsidered. Ziva had confessed to her one night, shortly after she’d returned to the States permanently, that she had shot her own brother.

Jenny shook her head, politics and international relations were far from clear cut. She and Ziva had been close friends after their assignment together, but with time their relationship had deteriorated. She was her boss, the same way she was Jethro’s. She couldn’t afford to have personal relationships with her employees, not with how closely the higher ups had been watching her.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she turned her attention back to the paper. Turning the page, she noticed a familiar face. Cynthia smiled back at her, clearly happy with her new position. Smiling despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel relieved her former secretary had managed to move on and be successful. Closing the newspaper, she folded it neatly and placed it on the table next to her.

The rattle of the latch on the small gate leading into the back yard alerted her she had company. Dropping her feet from where they had been propped against the railing, she sat up, trying to see who had dropped by. Only a few people who knew about the small entrance, and she had given Noemi half the day off.

Jethro trudged round the corner, head bent as he navigated the small footpath.

She relaxed fractionally, a different kind of tension took hold of her. She doubted she’d told him when she’d be seeing the doctor. Given their last conversation she was a little taken aback by the fact that he was here. He turned to look at her and for the second time today she was frozen in place.

The usually neat Marine cut he wore was messy, his clothes dirty and wrinkled. His right eyebrow was sliced open and his eye bruised under the dried blood. It was obvious he hadn’t slept in days.

“Knocked on the front door.” He offered as explanation for his appearance.

“What happened?” She sat forward in her chair.

Jethro rested his arms on the low railing, careful not to hit his broken index finger. Resting his chin on his hands, he watched as concern crossed her features. He noted the green silk and thought that the colour perfectly matched her eyes.

“Jethro?” Jenny asked again, trying to get some form of acknowledgement from him.

He pushed away from the railing and made his way up the two steps and took a seat right next to her. She noticed the remnant of blood on his right index finger as he rested his hand on his knee. She stared at his profile for a second, wondering if he’d ever answer her question.

He pressed his lips together, turning to look at her. “I shot an agent today.”

She tried hiding her gasp, reaching out she rested a hand on his shoulder. Dark blue eyes dropped to her hand as she tried offering some support. He placed his left hand over hers, running his thumb over her knuckles. He looked up at her, the pain of what he’d done impossible to hide.

“I had no choice, Jen.” He was hoarse. “I killed Michelle Lee.”

“Oh, Jethro.” She squeezed his fingers gently. She knew not to push the subject any further, he would open up on his own time.

They sat in silence for a while, watching as the sun slowly started setting. She watched him out the corner of her eye as he stared at nothing. She was relieved he’d ended up here and not in his basement drunk out of his mind. Given that she no longer worked for NCIS, she knew he couldn’t divulge the details of what happened.

“She was sellin’ classified information, to save her sister.” He looked over at her, shrugging his shoulders. “Gonna be all over the news tomorrow anyway. Leon can only stall the press for so long.”

Jenny shook her head. The work they did for a living exposed them to all kinds of danger. She sighed, a number of her Ops had gone sideways because someone had tipped off the enemy. It was hard to trust anyone in their line of work.

“We’ve all done something reckless to protect those we love.” She watched as he nodded thoughtfully, quietly mulling over what she’d said.

Jethro straightened a little, grinding his teeth together. “Didn’t mean to miss chemo on Monday.”

Jenny waved him off lightly. “I’ll probably have another year of treatment. If you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all.”

He frowned at her comment. Sitting back, he looked her over, noting she was dressed in something other than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. It finally dawned on him. “You see the doctor today? What did he say?”

Jenny pulled away from him, dropping her hands in her lap and fidgeting with her fingers out of habit. “The usual stuff when I see him. Nothing’s changed, surgery’s all set, I just have to pass the time until then.”

“What day is it?”

“A Monday, ironically.” She gave a forced laugh.

The tension was rife between them, it had been building from the moment he’d shown up in her backyard. It was their typical dance, something they had perfected years ago. Neither of them was going to acknowledge the fact that they had unresolved business to discuss. Most of the time, either one of them would start the fight, and they’d simply add fuel to an already roaring fire. This was exactly why a long-term relationship between them never worked.

“Jen, not what I asked.” He watched her intently as she scrambled through her thoughts.

“Does it really matter, Jethro? I never should’ve asked you in the first place. I can take a cab or ask Noemi to stay over and take me.”

“Jen, what’s going on with you? I said I’d take ya.” He couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice.

“Nothing, Jethro. I’m just saying I’ll ask someone else.”

He saw her shoulders sag in defeat, small hands reaching up to rub her temples. There had only been one other time he’d seen her back away from a fight. It had been the night before she’d been shot on their mission in the Czech Republic. It didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like when she conceded to someone else’s opinion. She fought fire with fire until she won or the other person backed off.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what this was about. It had been the main reason he’d come here in the first place. He regretted what he’d said to her. The only person who really knew about Hernandez was Mike Franks, but he should’ve know she’d figure it out.

“I didn’t mean it.” He said gruffly, watching the confusion flicker across her face, large green eyes almost glaring. “What I said, ‘bout your dad. Didn’t mean it.”

“I was out of line.”

“No.” He interjected, sitting up and leaning closer to her. “You were right, Jen. What we did, it’s the same, but it didn’t bring them back.”

Jenny gave him a sad smile, nodding her head. Years of seeking revenge and there was still a hole in her chest.

“Jenny, I promised you this wouldn’t be like back then,” he whispered softly. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

She stiffened at his apology. She knew he had a rule about seeking forgiveness, but she doubted he’d ever actually broken it for her. She pressed her lips together, staring at him for a few seconds. Nodding, she gave him a small smile, “Thank you.”

He reached out with his good hand, rubbing his thumb across her pale cheek. It was still an adjustment for him, being unable to run his fingers through her thick red locks whenever he wanted to. She leaned closer, and he took it as a good sign. Brushing the shell of her ear, he cupped the back of her head gently.

They had too much shared history for this to not feel right. A small hand ran lightly over his chest, gripping his suit jacket tightly. He licked his lips and pressed them softly against hers. Somewhere it registered that it felt different. He deepened the kiss, resting his injured hand against her ribs. She kissed him back, full of fire and intensity.

Pulling away, she rested her forehead against his.

“Jethro-”

“I know, Jen. Ya told me before. It won’t work between us.” He pulled away to look at her, noting the sadness in her eyes. “Just give me a chance, Jen. I wanna do right by you.”

She cupped his cheeks in her palms, blue eyes earnest as he looked back at her. “It’s not you I’m worried about, Jethro. I’m not in a position to give you what you want or need.”

“Just need to have you close.” He answered honestly.

She leaned in, smiling against his lips. “You can be such a sweet bastard.”

He grinned at her, kissing her again for good measure. Dropping his hand from her ribs to her thigh, he saw her gaze flick to his injured finger. She touched her fingers to his wrist, inspecting the ugly black bruise. She shook her head, finally meeting his curious gaze.

“Ducky give you something for the pain?” She ran her fingers over the veins on his hand, his fingers twitching at the feeling.

“Bourbon.” He deadpanned, seeing her roll her eyes at his reply.

She doubted he’d be sticking around for much longer, she’d seen the look in his eyes before. It was hard losing an agent, and she could only imagine what he must’ve felt shooting one of their own. There was a big possibility he’d be drunk well after midnight trying to numb his feelings.

“You want to eat something before you go?” It was a long shot. She knew him well enough to know he avoided eating so the alcohol could have a more profound effect on him. She’d been there herself, and thinking back she wished she’d taken better care of herself. The least she could do was get some food in him before he decided to drink the night away.

“You chasin’ me away?” He concentrated on something off in the distance.

“No, I was inviting you to dinner. Noemi made lasagne.” She stood from her chair, a little stiff from being in the same position for the last few hours. Taking her water bottle and folded paper, she turned to look at him.

He didn’t break eye contact as she glared at him. He missed that look, the one that told him he better agree or he’d be sorry. She didn’t stick around for an answer, pushing past him and disappearing into the house. Turning his attention back to the setting sun, he sighed heavily.

He’d spent most of the day writing up his report. He’d sent the team home after he was sure Michelle’s little sister would be safe. He’d seen the worried look exchanged between the three agents as they slowly filed out of the bullpen. Tony had been in a better mood after he’d seen Jenny, and had been tight lipped over his whereabouts that day.

A part of him wanted to go home, lock himself in his basement and see how drunk he’d get before he blacked out. He’d ended up here instead. Partly driven by his guilt over what he’d said to her, and partly because he knew she’d be able to ease the blame he was carrying for what he’d done.

Clearing his throat, he stood from his chair, stretching his back to ease the sore muscles. He watched as the sun finally sunk below the horizon taking with it the last of the orange hue it had left behind. There was noise in the kitchen as Jenny moved around, the sound of cutlery clinking broke through the soft singing of the crickets.

The screen door protested as it opened. Jethro leaned against the door frame, noting the two plates already waiting on the kitchen island. The coffee machine was whirring softly as it made coffee. She turned to look at him as he walked into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island. He was struck by how graceful she looked, despite the pain or how sick she felt.

She disappeared from view as she knelt behind the island, muttering quietly to herself. She reappeared, a familiar blue first-aid kit in her hands. He narrowed his eyes at her as she advanced on him slowly. The kit made a soft thud as she dropped it next to him on the counter.

“No.” He growled as she advanced on him.

She raised an eyebrow at him as she tore open an alcohol swab. He was squirming in his seat, trying to get away from her. “Quit being a baby, Jethro, and sit still.” She sighed as he leaned away from her.

“Come on, Jen. At the dinner table?” He held onto the edge of the counter precariously, trying to stop his chair from toppling over. Jenny wasn’t exactly the gentlest of people when it came to playing nurse, largely due to the fact that any type of wound repulsed her. She was so contradicting that she confused him most days.

“Stop being a baby.” She grabbed his arm, stopping him from moving. “Besides we’ve done a lot worse on here.”

He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes. Finally sitting still and closing his eyes, he felt her cup his cheek softly. The alcohol swab was cool against his skin as she dabbed it against his eyebrow. Balling his fist, he waited for the sting to subside as she softly wiped over the cut. He felt her breath on his lips as she tended to his wounds. It reminded him of Positano when she’d helped clean his injuries to avoid the spread of an already nasty infection.

She pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “See wasn’t that bad.”

Jethro opened his eyes, watching as she gathered everything and cleared the counter. He touched his temple despite himself, a reminder that it was something she’d done a lot during their relationship. Letting out a heavy sigh, he could feel the last two weeks slowly catch up with him.

“When is the operation?” He tried, hoping she’d changed her mind over going in on her own.

Jenny placed his blue cup in front of him, the steam from the cup rising slowly. “The 14th, if all goes well. I still need to finalise the paperwork.”

She answered half distracted as she pottered around the kitchen. He knew she was holding something back, she was unusually nervous, but he doubted it was the right time to get it out of her.

“There any desert to follow dinner?” He asked as she placed the warm dish right in front of him, his stomach growling.

She grinned at him, large green eyes mischievous. “Maybe, if you’re a good boy.”

* * *

Every noise and odd creak had kept him up majority of the night. At the back of his mind, he knew it was more due to the comfortable bed than any peculiar sound. He couldn’t believe three weeks had passed so quickly. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach as he turned for the umpteenth time.

Jenny had suggested he spend the night at her place before she had to go into hospital since they wanted her submitted at the crack of dawn. Jethro sighed softly as he listened to the quiet house. She still hadn’t gone into details about what exactly the operation entailed, and he knew better than to weasel it out of her. Maybe if he had spent more time with her, he would’ve been able to figure it out.

The last three weeks had been hell, the team slammed with case after case. He’d managed to see her at least a handful of times, but she had easily diverted the conversation to whatever case he’d been working.

Leon had dragged his feet with approving his latest leave request. Apart from DiNozzo, his whole team had grown suspicious of his random disappearances from work. He’d almost resorted to calling in sick when Friday had rolled around and Vance had yet to approve his time off. The call had woken him up Saturday morning, his Director finally agreeing to give him the time he needed.

He had found himself on Jenny’s doorstep Saturday evening just as she was turning in for the night. She’d spent the majority of Sunday in bed, feeling sick. He’d given her space and had spent most of his time familiarising himself with the collection of military novels on her bookshelf.

The floorboards creaked softly, alerting him that someone was in the hall. There was at least another fifteen minutes left before they had to get up. He heard her hesitate in the hall, unsure if she should walk passed his door or not. There was another creak as she took a few more steps, stopping in his open door.

She leaned against the door frame. “Can’t sleep?” She whispered softly.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he switched on the small bedlamp, the dim light too bright for both of them.

He patted the empty spot next to him. There was a slight sense of hesitancy on her part as she moseyed into the guest bedroom. She climbed onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, pressed tightly against him to steal his body heat. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, she dropped her head to his shoulder, burrowing closer.

If he didn’t know any better he could’ve sworn she was scared. Neither of them knew what to expect. Despite the operation being a routine procedure, according to her, there were still a number of things that could go wrong. It was that thought that had kept both of them up for majority of the night.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he held her tight, feeling the shuddering breath she let out.

“I’m having a mastectomy.” She whispered again.

He didn’t miss the emotions in her voice or how it had quivered. He closed his eyes, burying his nose in the black beanie she wore. It was hard to comprehend just how much it was getting to her. She was someone who always prided herself in the way she looked. Sharply dressed and always making sure to turn heads wherever she went. She wasn’t a particularly shy woman. She carried herself with confidence, and it always showed.

“Do you think they’ll charge for only one half of a bra?” The joke fell flat, the smile on both their faces forced.

“It doesn’t change anything, Jen. You’ll always be beautiful.” He whispered against her cheek, hugging her against him. He felt the silent sob rack through her. Rubbing a hand over her back soothingly he held her until she calmed down.

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “Even when I’m bald and only have one boob?”

Pressing a kiss to her lips, he wiped away the last few tears rolling down her cheeks. “Always.”

* * *

The street lights reflected off the windows as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Jenny was exceptionally quiet, and he didn’t exactly blame her. Switching off the car, he unclipped his safety belt, twisting in his seat to look at her. She was chewing her lip, staring at the George Washington sign. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing softly. She took a deep breath, pulling herself out of whatever deep thought she’d been lost in.

“I don’t get why I have to be here so early.” She grumbled as she finally unbuckled herself.

It was strange thinking that given how often either of them had ended up in the hospital, neither of them really went voluntarily. They were used to check-ups, but that usually meant a large team of medical personnel showed up at the Navy Yard to evaluate them.

She placed her hand over his, fingers stroking gently to avoid his still healing finger. There were a number of things running through her mind, things that she’d wished she’d be able to ignore. Jethro squeezed her tight again, causing her to look at him.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Jen.” He spoke softly, not wanting to break the quiet atmosphere around them.

He had vivid memories of his mother being in the same position, knowing that each hospital visit would bare more bad news. The only difference was his mother had been terminal. Jenny still had a fighting chance. It was the one thing that gave him hope when his thoughts took a turn for the worst.

“Gonna be there when you go in and when you wake up.” He gave her a soft smile, hoping his support would lessen the nerves.

Letting go of his hand, she cupped the back of his head, fingers stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. Leaning in, she kissed him slowly, hoping to draw strength from him. He tasted like coffee and spearmint, causing her to groan softly.

“I can really use some caffeine right about now.” She mumbled against his lips, feeling him laugh quietly.

“You ready?” He stroked her cheek softly, noting how cold she felt to the touch. Pulling the beanie a little more secure on her head, he saw her nod imperceptibly.

The chill September brought was evident in the brisk morning air, the sun yet to rise to bring the lingering heat. He felt her lean into him as they made their way across the parking lot. Tightening his grip on her small travel bag, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, offering her some warmth.

The overwhelming scent of disinfectant hit them as they made their way into the hospital reception area. Jethro took a seat in the waiting area while Jenny finalised her paperwork. He watched the few people sitting with him.

He’d noted the older couple when they had walked in, realising from their body language that their visit was nerve wrecking. To his left were a young mother and her son, the boy no older than three with his arm in a sling. The kid stared at him, large blue eyes studying him curiously. He hid a smile as his mother scolded him for staring at strangers.

He thought of his own little girl at that age, curious about the world around her. It felt strange reflecting on the brief time he had with his family. Usually, guilt would force him to bury their memories until he couldn’t hide them any more, but Jenny knew. It was both a relief and somewhat unsettling, knowing she understood the loss of a loved one perhaps more than most.

Sighing softly, he rubbed at his eyes, the lack of sleep these last two days were slowly catching up to him. He couldn’t help but let his gaze drift to the older couple again. They seemed to be well into their years, maybe even older than his own father. He watched the old man pat his wife’s hand, giving her a smile as she looked at him.

The small hand on his shoulder drew his attention away from his surroundings.

“You coming?” Jenny asked as he looked at her slightly surprised.

He nodded, hoisting the bag’s strap over his shoulder, he followed behind her as the nurse led them towards the right ward.

They entered the elevator, the annoying jingle filling the silence between them. He watched as Jenny wrung her hands together, the usually pale skin red from all her fidgeting. Reaching for her hand, he laced his fingers with hers, feeling her tighten her grip on him. He stroked his thumb across her knuckles, feeling her grip relax fractionally.

The silver doors slid open on the quiet floor. The grip on his hand increased again as they were showed to the room.

“I’m nurse Vicky.” The young nurse smiled at them as she moved around the small room. “Miss Shepard, we’re gonna do some routine blood work, make notes on all your vitals. The doctor should be here in the next 30 minutes just to go through the procedure again.”

Taking the gown and antiseptic soap waiting on the bed, she held it towards her patient.

“I always feel so weird telling my patients this.” The young nurse laughed softly, noting the tension lightening between the two people. “I’m gonna need you to take a shower with the antiseptic soap, just to prevent unwanted infections. Once you’re done, you can put on this lovely gown and I’ll come back and we can get the rest over and done with.”

Jenny simply nodded, offering the nurse a brave smile. She watched as she left, before risking a glance at Jethro. He was seated in the small plastic chair, looking at the black TV screen. She was silently grateful that Ducky had forced him to see her the night she had resigned. There had been a lot of ups and downs between them. She could see some of her nerves had rubbed off on him. He wasn’t as closed off to her as he wanted to be.

He suddenly turned to look at her, and she felt the blush creep up her neck and across her cheeks. Being caught staring wasn’t exactly something new, she’d done it a lot as a probie. She always denied it, anything not to stroke his ego. He was an attractive man, always had been, even now years after their torrid love affair she couldn’t help but simply look at him.

“Do you want some help?” He broke through her thoughts, a tired grin gracing his features.

She looked down at the gown in her hands. Meeting his gaze again she gave him a sultry smile. “Least you can do is buy me dinner first.”

They stared at each other a moment. Jethro laced his fingers behind his head, looking her up and down. There was no way he could miss the fear behind her bravado, although she did a very good job at hiding it. Clearing his throat, he realised his scrutiny was making her uncomfortable.

She mumbled quietly, pointing towards the private bathroom before she disappeared, the lock clicking behind her.

He dropped his arms in his lap, leaning forward, he rested his head in his hands. This was unfamiliar territory and at the same time he knew exactly what it was like going through this. He remembered a couple of hospital visits with his mom, being dragged out of bed and not really knowing what was going on. LJ Moore had tried his best to be there for him, to take his mind off everything. Sometime it had worked, until he walked through the front door and heard his mother crying.

It was eating away at him, watching Jenny go through all of this. There was no one lying to him, nobody trying to sugar-coat what exactly was going on. After meeting Shannon and becoming a father himself, he understood why his parents had tried to hide just how sick his mother had been. Even then it didn’t help ease the loss he’d gone through knowing his mother had taken her own life.

It was the root of his anger towards Jenny. Although when she’d gone on her mission to take down Svetlana by herself, he hadn’t known she was sick. Personal experience had told him it was suicide going after her. He still needed to thank Mike for going behind Jenny’s back and roping him into their mission.

The door opened and his head shot up. The hospital gown was far too big for her as she sauntered back into the room. She gave him a small smile as she padded across the room, bare feet softly smacking on the cold floor. Climbing on the bed, she drew her bag closer, depositing her clothes neatly inside. Touching the black beanie hesitantly, she took it off and placed it with the rest of her things.

“Jethro?” He hummed softly, meeting her gaze. “Are you okay?”

Silver brows knitted together as he regarded her quietly. She’d seen the tension on his face the moment she’d walked through the door. His mouth had been drawn in a thin line, jaw set and his forehead pinched. The few months since he’d found out about her diagnoses, he’d been insistent on knowing how she was feeling. Despite their fights and annoyance with each other, he always made sure she was okay. She felt bad, knowing that she’d neglected to ask him if he was coping with everything. It was partly due to the fact that getting anything out of him was pointless.

Their relationship had always been tough to navigate under any circumstances. He never shared any emotions and hardly ever showed anything beyond anger. She wouldn’t have asked, but she’d noticed something different about him in the fifteen-minute span that she’d been gone. It never occurred to her that he might struggle with her being sick. Until she’d realised they were heading down the very familiar road of how they had ended up together in the first place.

“Jen, I-”

“Alright, are we ready?” The nurse walked into the room.

Jenny swore under her breath, fighting the urge to snap at the nurse for interrupting. She shot a brief glance at Jethro as he moved his chair into the corner to give them space to move around.

He simply turned his attention away from them, watching through the window as the sun slowly started peaking over the horizon.

* * *

Fighting a yawn, Jethro scrubbed a hand over his face. He really should’ve tried getting some shut eye last night. The sun was shining through the window, heating the small room. Jenny was lounging on the bed, flicking through the channels on the small TV. He contemplated finding some form of coffee to keep him awake, but he didn’t want to miss the doctor or Jenny being wheeled to theatre.

A quiet knock on the door drew their attention. Doctor Geiger gave them a bright smile as he peered over the thin frames of his glasses.

“How are we this morning?” He walked up to the bed, taking the clipboard and flipping through it.

“Hungry.” Jenny muttered as she eyed the doctor.

The old doctor laughed, nodding as he closed the clipboard. “A few more hours and we’ll have you eating in no time.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, he stood beside the bed, trying to asses Jenny’s mental state. He knew the insecurities a number of women faced with this procedure. “The surgery is between sixty and ninety minutes. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. From what I can tell, the cancer hasn’t spread into the chest wall, but we’ll have definite confirmation once we start the procedure. We’re going to make a small incision under the armpit to remove the affected lymph nodes. Any questions?”

Jenny shook her head. She was as prepared as she’d ever be.

Geiger turned towards the man that had been watching them the last few minutes. Offering him a hand, he introduced himself. “Matthew Geiger.”

“Jethro Gibbs.”

“Well, Mr. Gibbs. I’ll be sure to have her back with you in no time.” He turned back to Jenny, noting the softness in her eyes as she stared at the man behind him.

Placing a hand on her arm, he drew her attention to him. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Try to relax. The nurse will be in shortly and before you know it you’ll be back in here. If everything goes according to plan, you’ll be discharged Wednesday morning.”

Jenny rolled her eyes, drawing a laugh from the old doctor. He patted her arm and left the two of them alone once more.

The silence was suffocating, both of them trying to avoid looking at each other. Jenny bit her lip, wondering if her doctor appointments would’ve been a little easier had she dragged Jethro along from the start.

“Been thinkin’,” Jethro spoke, turning to look at her.

“That’s dangerous.” She snipped, grinning as he rolled his eyes at her.

“Jen.” He sighed.

Pushing herself up on the bed, leaning against the pillows and watching as he fought through whatever he was trying to say. He moved his chair closer to the bed, reaching for her hand. He ran his fingers over her knuckles. “When you get outta here, maybe we should go to dinner.”

She stared at him, green eyes wide. “Are you asking me on a date?”

If she hadn’t been so taken aback, she might have laughed at how red his ears turned, or the faint blush colouring his cheeks. He seemed uncomfortable, squirming in his seat a little at her question. “If ya want it to be.” He muttered as she grinned at him.

She stared at him a while longer, if only to watch him squirm a few more seconds. “Jethro,” she loosened his grip on her hand and pressed it to his cheek, “of course I would.”

It had always amazed her how easily his eyes could give away his mood. They were soft in colour as he smiled.

“Are we ready, Ms. Shepard?” The nurse burst into the room.

Jenny felt her stomach drop, her heart suddenly thudding in her throat. She swallowed heavily, nodding tensely as another nurse walked in. She looked at Jethro, watching as the colour drained from his cheeks as well, she could sense he was as nervous as she was.

He stopped the nurses from rolling the bed away, leaning over the rail they had lifted, he reached for Jenny’s hand. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Gonna be here when you wake up.”

“You don’t know that.” She whispered softly, despite no real complications hindering the procedure. She was still scared.

“Jen.” He chastised gently. Leaning down, he kissed her tenderly.

“We really have to go.” The nurse informed them, regretting she had to interrupt their moment.

Jethro nodded, pressing one last kiss to Jenny’s forehead, he watched as they pushed her out of the room.

Grabbing his wallet, he scrubbed a hand over his face, knowing he’d need coffee to get him through the next few hours.

He was already on his second cup of coffee as he sauntered out of the overly priced coffee shop. It tasted like dishwater, but he forced it down, hoping the caffeine would keep him going. The lobby bustled with activity, patients checking in and others visiting someone. Avoiding the throngs of people, he navigated his way to the busy elevators.

A group of people piled into the tiny silver box, the doors barely sliding shut. Shaking his head, he leaned against the wall, waiting for the sudden rush to ease. Glancing down at his watch, he felt the tension in his gut. Jenny had been wheeled away forty-five minutes ago, but it felt like hours.

The noise suddenly ceased. Jethro glanced around, realising he was alone. Stretching his back, he thumbed the worn-out elevator button that would take him up to the oncology ward. He felt rather than saw the presence behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he recognised the dark eyes looking back at him.

“Ziver?”

Ziva David lifted her chin, questioning whether her showing up here was still such a good idea.

Silence engulfed them as he turned. Jethro slowly sipped at his coffee, watching her as she avoided his gaze. Frustrated with the silence, he cleared his throat, “How’d you know?”

Ziva finally looked at him. She didn’t miss the tiredness in his posture or the stress he tried to hide. Narrowing her eyes at him, she regarded him for a few seconds. Tony had let it slip that she might want to see Jenny soon, a suggestion that had seemed odd to her.

“Process of elimination.” She finally answered.

He simply quirked an eyebrow, not the least bit surprised that she had shown up. He’d suspected it would happen sooner or later. “Was it Abby or McGee?”

She frowned at him. “What?”

Jethro rolled his eyes. He was exhausted and in no mood for her avoidance. “Who pinged my phone?”

Ziva pursed her lips, preferring to watch the elevator slowly count down the floors. Glancing at Gibbs, she sighed softly. “Both,” she licked her lips, “everyone’s worried.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I know.” It wasn’t his decision to make. Jenny was extremely private, sometimes she enjoyed keeping secrets just a little too much. This, he knew, was far different from some simple work matter. Both Jenny and Ziva had been through thick and thin together. He wasn’t privy to the details, but he knew Jenny well enough that she rarely trusted someone the way she trusted the young Mossad Officer.

The elevator dinged, revealing an empty box. He sensed Ziva’s sudden uneasiness. “You comin’, Ziver?” He didn’t move towards the elevator, instead studying her as she seemed indecisive. His own anxiety was slowly eating away at him, and he knew he couldn’t wait for her any longer to make a decision. Throwing his now empty coffee cup in a trash can, he stepped into the elevator.

“Perhaps, I should come later, yes?” Ziva looked at him guardedly.

“She’ll probably be out of it anyway.” He reached out his arm, stopping the doors from closing. “I’ll tell her you’ll be dropping by.”

Ziva nodded. “Thank you, Gibbs.”

* * *

The oncology ward was quiet as Jethro made his way down the hall. He gripped the two coffee cups tightly, not sure what to expect once he reached Jenny’s room. Doctor Geiger had assured him that the procedure had gone according to plan, they were simply sedating her to help manage the pain. He’d stayed anyway just in case she woke up. The head nurse had been the one to force him to go home, assuring him that Jenny was in good hands.

Nurse Vicky smiled at him as he strolled passed the nurses station, returning the smile, he eased the door open.

Jenny looked up from the newspaper she’d been reading, relieved to see a familiar face. She could tell from his pale cheeks that he was tired and probably hadn’t had anything decent to eat in the last two days. Folding the newspaper, she smiled as he presented one of the coffee cups to her.

“Am I glad to see you.” She murmured, sipping the coffee slowly. Opening her eyes, she smiled up at him. “You too.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, leaning down he kissed her. Running a thumb across her cheek, he cupped her chin gently. “How you feeling?” Grabbing the plastic chair, he dragged it noisily across the floor, sitting next to her.

“Surprisingly good, considering…” Drinking more from her cup, she pushed her plate towards him. “I don’t think I can stomach the bacon or the toast today.”

“Jen, you haven’t had anything to eat in days.” He chastised gently.

“I had the eggs.” She gave him an indignant look. “The nurse said I might be nauseous due to the anaesthetics. I know you haven’t eaten anything either. Eat, or I’m calling the head nurse, she likes you.” It was a compliment laced with a threat. It seemed that Jethro had made quite the impression on the younger nursing staff and the gossip had spread rather quickly.

“You see the doctor yet?” He shovelled the food down quickly, ignoring her pointed look.

Jenny shook her head, amused, “Yeah, he checked to see how I was doing, said he’d drop by later.”

Jethro nodded absent-mindedly, sipping his coffee to swallow down his food.

“Something on your mind?” She pressed, there had been something off about him the moment he’d walked through the door. He simply shook his head. “Jethro,” she smiled, “I know you. What is it? Did the doctor say something to you?” She felt her nerves suddenly take hold.

“No.” Jethro quickly interjected, he sighed out of annoyance with himself. “Ziva, she was here yesterday, wanted to see you.”

She relaxed, “I was wondering when I’d see her.”

He looked up, curious about her remark. Ziva David was hard to read, she didn’t let anyone close, but he knew there was a kinship between the two women. “Cairo?”

Jenny’s gaze cut to his. She knew what he was asking, he wanted to know what had caused the Mossad Officer to trust her the way she did. After everything she’d done as Director, she doubted the younger woman still had any faith in her. “It’s a long story.” She shook her head, “Short version, she saved my life and in return I made sure she got away from her father. I guess Leon Vance being friends with Eli David doesn’t bode well with her.”

Silver eyebrows rose in surprise. “They know each other?”

Jenny nodded slowly, her mind elsewhere. “It’s a love-hate relationship. They both know their acquaintance is valuable to both NCIS and Mossad.” Smoothing down her blankets, she shook her head. “If it hadn’t been for her, I never would’ve made it out alive.”

He knew not to push the subject too much, there were things from their undercover days that they couldn’t even discuss with each other. “She’s gonna be here soon, if you’re not up to visitors I can call her.” Ziva’s phone call had forced him awake just as he’d finally fallen asleep, telling him she’d prefer to see Jenny early.

“I’ve looked worse.” Jenny laughed tiredly, wincing again as pain sliced through her.

A light knock alerted them that Ziva had arrived, on time as usual. Jethro could see the uneasiness in her posture as she looked between them. Realising his presence might make her uncomfortable, he thought it best to leave.

Leaning over the hospital bed, he brushed a thumb across Jenny’s cheek. “Gonna find some actual food, want something?”

“Ginger tea, if you can find some.”

He kissed her gently, smiling at the blush shooting across her cheeks.

“Ziver.” He squeezed her hand on the way out, knowing she was feeling out of her depth.

Jenny adjusted herself gingerly, watching Ziva slowly step into the room. Dealing with her required the same approach she often used with Jethro. Both needed some space, emotions weren’t something they easily dealt with.

Moving the chair to have a view of the door, Ziva took a seat. Spending years involved in dangerous missions had made her suspicious of everything, no matter how safe it might appear. She forced herself to relax, reminding herself that there was no threat. The last time she’d been in a hospital with Jenny she’d rushed her in with multiple stab wounds.

“At least it is not hot.” She tried lightening the mood, watching Jenny smile and nod slowly.

The air between them was decidedly awkward. Tony’s undercover mission was still whispered about in the quiet halls of Head Quarters. A revenge mission wasn’t unheard of, she knew of countless people back at Mossad who used their job as a way to exact punishment. It was different this time. She worked closely with Tony, knew him on a personal level. Almost losing him had created the anger she harboured towards her closest friend.

She doubted they still fell in that category. A lot had changed. The trip to Los Angeles had forced her to reassess everything. She thought about it every time she went over the events of that day, wondering what they could’ve done differently. If it hadn’t been for Mike Franks alerting Gibbs, the chances of Jenny surviving that shoot-out were slim at best.

“You knew,” Ziva broke the silence, “that you were sick.”

Jenny narrowed her eyes at her. She owed her the truth, “I had just found out.”

“And you went on a suicide mission.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a mere fact.

She twitched her eyebrows, not seeing the point in denying it. It seemed that everyone who learned the truth saw what she’d been trying to do. “I almost got Tony killed. A past mistake almost cost Jethro his life. It seemed like the best option at the time.”

“Next time, you tell me.” Ziva let out a heavy sigh.

She shook her head, admiring the younger woman’s optimism. “There won’t be a next time. I’m done, Ziva. Besides, I doubt my motivations and choices bode well with any of the other agencies.”

“You had every right to pursue Benoit. He was an arms dealer after all.” She turned her chair more towards Jenny. “At Mossad Tony’s involvement with the daughter would’ve been encouraged. If he died, it would be seen as collateral.”

It sounded so diplomatic, like it happened on every other day. Jenny shook her head. She’d spent the last year of her liaison between the two agencies working under Deputy Director David. There had been whispers that he’d been promoted to Director, it was only a matter of time before he demanded Ziva return to Mossad.

“I’m not your father, Ziva. I should never have put Tony in that position.”

She sighed, “It does not excuse our lack of professionalism when you had needed us the most.”

Jenny shook her head. It was bothering Ziva more than she expected. “Ziva, I was an agent too. Gibbs trained me. I made sure you two didn’t know any better. At least that was my plan before Jethro arrived.”

“He is taking it well, yes?”

“I don’t know how he’s taking it, he doesn’t exactly talk about his feelings.” Wincing slightly as she readjusted her pillows, Jenny met Ziva’s gaze. “This isn’t easy, Ziva. There’s no definite answer, only good days and bad days. I never wanted any of you to know.”

“Why?”

It was a good question. “Shame, cowardice? I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on walking out of that diner, because I didn’t want anyone’s pity or have them feel sorry for me.”

“But Gibbs, he cares, very much.” Ziva didn’t miss the slight blush colouring her cheeks, or the embarrassed smile she accidentally let slip.

“It’s early days. He might change his mind.”

The Israeli shook her head, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh no, he’s in it for the long walk.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn’t love a good Ziva-ism? I definitely tried to deliver with that last line.


	6. Small Town Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this particular chapter. There are some tropes and maybe some OOC moments, but these two are really growing.

The  light burning in the foyer told him how late it was. The rest of the neighbouring houses were shrouded in darkness.  It was the fourth night that he’d come home late, crime didn’t wait for anyone. Jethro eased the front door shut behind him, careful not to be too loud. Jenny was fast asleep in the spare bedroom, and he’d hate to wake her.

He’d been kicking himself most of the week, knowing he’d miss her follow up with Doctor Geiger. Noemi had been a lifesaver, offering to drive her. The last two weeks had been rough. Someone on the medical staff had leaked to the press that the former NCIS Director was being treated for cancer. The news had spread like wildfire. Vance had called in a favour or two, while her lawyer had tried his best to do some damage control. Requests for interviews had been streaming in from the moment the story had been made public.

He’d thought it best to move her to his house. Ducky had asked him how Jenny was doing and the fact that he couldn’t give him a straight answer frustrated him. The brief conversations they shared had made him aware that she was emotionally exhausted. Something the old doctor had warned him about. He couldn’t begin to understand what she was going through emotionally. Ducky had suggested she see a psychologist to try and deal with everything she’d been going through.

He was sure she’d shoot him if he even suggested she see a head doctor, so he was steering clear of that until it was necessary.

Toeing off his boots, he silently made his way up the stairs. The light in the bedroom spilled out into the hallway and he quietly slipped into the room.

She was fast asleep, her black beanie warding off the cold and the covers tucked tightly under her chin. Jethro let out a quiet breath, relieved that she seemed peaceful. The first couple of days after the operation had led to a number of nightmares. He knew she battled her own demons at night, but the emotional few days had done a number on her. It had forced him to move into the room with her, to provide what little comfort he could.

“Jethro?”

“Shh,” he quickly moved across the room. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jenny rubbed at her eyes, squinting up at him, “What time is it?”

“Just passed twelve, go back to sleep.”

She made a sound of discontent, shaking her head. Blinking a few times, she stretched slightly, careful not to pull at her wounds. “Hmm, you sleeping here?”

Jethro hesitated for a moment. They had fallen into a strange agreement, one that had him questioning if it was for comfort or just the familiarity of two old lovers. He could tell she was slowly falling back asleep. “Sure.”

She scooted across the bed to her side, turning her back to him to offer him some privacy while he quickly changed.

Clothes folded neatly, he slipped between the sheets, letting out a sigh of relief as his muscles relaxed. It was getting chillier as the days went by and he was silently thankful Jenny had thought it best they sleep together. The old house could get cold during winter, and his old injuries didn’t take kindly to it.

The redhead rolled towards him, snuggling right into his side. Allowing himself a small smile, he leaned down to kiss her before turning off the light. A year ago if he’d even hinted at them sleeping together she would’ve keelhauled him right there on the spot.

Sleep had claimed him somewhere during the night, but his body told him he’d hardly had any decent rest. At one point he’d felt Jenny roll away from him, kicking the blankets off her. Listening to the silence his empty house had to offer, he blindly reached for the body beside him. Coming up empty, he forced his eyes open.

The light streaming through the open curtains was dull and grey. Lifting his head, he watched as she stared out the window, forehead pressed against the glass. She’d taken off the beanie, and he assumed it had been too hot. He’d noticed recently that her eyebrows seemed thinner. A part of him was relieved that she felt comfortable enough around him not to worry about what he might think of her. She’d spent days fretting about going out in public, wondering what people might say about her.

The few days he’d managed to spend more than five minutes with her, he’d realised that her usual fire and stubbornness had receded. A part of him had started wondering if she was depressed, another thing Ducky had warned him about. Life as she knew it had been severely disrupted. The only time she left the house was to receive treatment or see the doctor. Jenny was the life of the party, naturally social no matter what the circumstances. Watching her shut herself in didn’t sit too well in his gut.

Ever since she’d temporarily moved in with him, he’d started toying with an idea that might help the both of them relax. October was slowly approaching, and he knew his father was itching to see him again. There had been talks of spending Thanksgiving together, but he knew that work was too unpredictable. The amount of leave days he had were slowly waning, and he couldn’t afford to waste them.

It was only a matter of getting Jenny to agree. He couldn’t see the harm in getting away from DC for a few days. The team had an over due off weekend coming up soon, he’d take a day’s leave to make it worth the trip up to Stillwater. He doubted Jackson would have any reservations about Jenny; he might just enjoy the extra company.

“You’re either staring, or sleep with your eyes open.” Jenny broke the silence, looking at him over her shoulder with a tired smile.

She grinned at the light blush that crossed his cheeks as she crawled onto the bed, taking a seat near his feet. The last few nights had brought back a whole array of memories. She’d quickly picked up on the cues again, listening to his breathing change and his quiet groans as he slowly woke up.

“Sleep okay?” she asked softly. It was an awkward arrangement, the first night they had both slept on opposite sides of the bed, pretending they had never slept together before. Old comforts had quickly made their way back and before she knew it she was snuggling up to him during the night.

“Better than on the couch.” He admitted, the constant ache in his lower back had slowly started to ease since he slept on a decent bed. “You feeling okay?”

It was their usual routine these days. She asked about how he slept and if he was any closer to catching the bad guy, and he tried to figure out if she was feeling any better.

“A little stiff and sore, but it’s the exercises.” She rubbed her arm lightly. “Pain is definitely gone, slept like a baby.”

He smiled, relieved to see she was recovering. Reaching for her hand, he laced his fingers with hers. “What did the doctor say?”

She shrugged, “He’s happy with everything. I have to start chemo in a few weeks. The usual stuff.”

It was impossible to miss the defeat written across her face. Squeezing her fingers, he met her gaze. “What are you doing next weekend?”

There was slight confusion on her face, but she gave the question some serious thought. He didn’t want to force the impromptu visit on her, but he knew he had to get her away from everything. Even if it was just for a few days. He briefly wondered if Mike’s beach shack would be a better idea, but he doubted his mentor and Jenny had spoken since Los Angeles.

“Hopefully sleeping in my own bed,” she didn’t miss the brief flash of hurt, “without the media wanting to camp out on my street.” Abandoning her spot near his feet, she stretched out next to him, resting her chin on his chest. “No offence, but when did you buy this mattress? The eighties?”

He scowled at her, “Eighty-one.”

“You’re not serious?” she laughed.

He simply gave her a blank stare. She rolled her eyes at him, pulling the covers over herself, “Of course you are.” Settling down once again, she sighed. “I don’t have anything planned.”

Draping an arm over her shoulders, he hugged her closer. “Good. I was thinking of headin’ up to my dad’s. You up for it?” He felt her stiffen against him.

Pushing herself up on an elbow, she shook her head. “I don’t want to tag along just because you’re feeling sorry for me.”

This time his glare was serious. “Not feelin’ sorry for ya. I promised you dinner, Jen. Besides, Dad will enjoy the company.”

“You’re going to drive all the way up to Stillwater just to buy me dinner?”

“Better than the rubber chicken dinner we’d get here.”

She pushed at him playfully. It was no secret that his diet only consisted of Chinese take-out and fireplace steaks. “I’m sure your dad has loads of stories of a teenage Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

* * *

Friday morning promised to be sunny and warm and it didn’t disappoint. The yellow Dodge Challenger easily ate up the miles as they cruised along the free-way. The radio broke the occasional silence between their conversations. Jethro adjusted his sunglasses, watching Jenny out the corner of his eye. The windows had been rolled down, allowing the chilly autumn air to cool them. The flowery head scarf she’d chosen blew in the wind gently.

She seemed to be enjoying the sun, eyes closed and her head leaned back against the headrest. He hadn’t seen her this carefree since 1996, the first time he’d met her. They were a few miles outside of Stillwater, the Friday morning traffic thankfully light.

Jackson had eagerly agreed to their visit. The road sign indicating the remaining miles flew passed them when it suddenly dawned on him. He’d never told his old man that Jenny was sick, it had completely slipped his mind. It wasn’t so much her being sick, more the reminder of what happened in their own personal lives.

Jethro felt tension crawl up his spine. Jackson never spoke about Ann, something he never understood until he lost his own wife and daughter. His mother had been terminal with no positive out look on how long she might have lived. Chewing the inside of his lip, he glanced over at Jenny. Maybe he should’ve told his dad why he’d decided on the sudden visit.

“Jen?” he asked quietly as they started rolling into the small town.

Jenny sat up, blinking a few times, waiting for her eyes to adjust. “Mm,” she hummed quietly, “guess we’re here?”

He simply nodded, turning his attention back to the road. The street was lined with a few _Mom &Pop _shops, the kind that had been in the family for years. It seemed that Stillwater had fallen victim to chain-owned stores popping up.

Turning down the street, Jethro smiled to himself. It was the one place that never seemed to change. His childhood home drew near, bringing back memories of a simpler time, before his mother had died.

Easing the Challenger behind his dad’s old truck, he killed the engine and turned to Jenny. “Hungry? Because he’s not going to take no for an answer.”

Adjusting the floral scarf, she nodded, shooting him a grin. “Sounds like my kinda guy.”

He waited for her on the side walk, intrigued as she scanned the small street. They had arrived just as everyone started leaving for work. There was curiosity written all over her face as she turned to him.

“What?” he enquired gently, amused as she took in the small town.

“I was expecting everyone to stare.” She admitted quietly. It was partially true. She hadn’t exactly known what to expect when he’d mentioned that Stillwater was a small coalminer town. She’d heard the stories floating around the Navy Yard when they caught the case that had brought them here.

“Town’s not that small, Jen.” He laughed softly, dropping a kiss to her temple.

Making a face at him, she turned her attention away from the people going about their business. She didn’t miss Jethro’s smile as he placed a hand on her back and ushered her through the small gate.

A knock on the front door sounded through the old house.

Jackson Gibbs looked up from his morning paper, peering over his glasses. He’d seen the Challenger pull up, but had thought it best to give them some privacy before greeting them.

Leroy had never introduced him to any of his three ex-wives, the news usually arrived via a postcard from the new Misses. The only woman he ever met that had stolen his son’s heart was Shannon. When the call came early Saturday morning that he and a _friend_ were coming up for a visit, he had suspected that there was more to it.

Folding the newspaper neatly. He stood slowly, reaching for his cane gingerly. Opening the front door, he smiled at them warmly. “Glad to see you two made it here safe.”

“Dad,” Jethro greeted. He returned the old man’s hug as he wrapped his arm around him. Pulling away, he placed his hand on Jenny’s lower back, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. “Jenny, this is my dad, Jackson Gibbs.”

Jackson offered her a charming smile, blue eyes twinkling in a very familiar way. “Call me Jack.” He shook her hand, noting the self-consciousness in her eyes.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jack.” Jenny returned his smile.

Jackson slipped his arm through hers, ushering her into the old house. “Has Jethro told you about the time he ran naked out on the street?”

Jethro shook his head, rolling his eyes, it was Jackson’s go to line. He should’ve known his father would spill all their family secrets the moment he met Jenny. Walking back to the Challenger, he took their duffel bag out of the trunk. Breathing in the cold Pennsylvanian air, he looked at the house that made up his childhood.

His first time back in Stillwater a few months ago, they had stayed in one of the small motels. This time he’d have to sleep in his old bedroom. Surrounded by things that would only remind him of the years his mom had been sick and those that had followed. He still needed to talk to his father.

He’d contemplated telling Jenny about his mother, but he knew what her reaction would be. She’d been determined from the beginning not to have him go through this with her. If he told her about his mother, it would only strengthen her resolve.

Staring at the old house, he sighed to himself. He had to face one of his oldest demons.

Dropping the duffel bag in the living room, he joined them in the kitchen. Jenny was seated at the breakfast table, a cup in hand and laughing at whatever his father had been telling her. There was a mischievous look in her eyes, and he knew she was going to tease him the moment they were alone. It was a good thing his dad didn’t share any of the stories with his team.

He placed a hand on her thigh as he took a seat, listening as his father regaled her with yet another one of his exploits. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head as Jackson delivered the punchline, drawing yet another laugh from his guest.

She seemed more relaxed, a little more comfortable with Jackson. The old man had a special way of making anyone feel welcome. Accepting the plate his father offered, he listened as the old man went about telling more of his stories.

The last he could remember of his dad being this happy was just before his mom had been bed ridden. Swallowing heavily, he tried shaking off the memories.

The mornings that followed after she got too sick were painful. Breakfast was a quiet affair while his father tended to his mother. After her death, nothing had been the same again. Jackson had tried hiding the fact that she had taken her own life. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the panic in his dad’s voice the morning he found her. He’d been right behind him, staring at his mother’s lifeless body.

Jackson still didn’t know he’d been aware of his mother’s decision to end her own life. It would open too many old wounds that neither of them wanted to deal with.

“Jethro was actually the one making dinner when we were stationed in Paris.”

Jenny’s embarrassed laugh drew him from his thoughts. She blushed at the sudden attention. Squeezing her hand, he smiled at her. “She almost burned the house down.”

Jackson let out a chuckle, enjoying the tale of her misfortune. He watched them for a few seconds. The familiarity between them seemed far more intimate than what they wanted to admit to. It made him curious about how serious they were. He would have to explain to his son that what Jenny was going through was tough on a relationship. He just hoped life dealt his son a better hand than it did him.

“So you two work together?” Jackson noticed the uncomfortable look passing between them.

“We did for a few years and then I was promoted.” Jenny answered, knowing the past was still a very sore subject between them.

“She was my boss.” Jethro interjected, not wanting to let his father in on what happened between them.

“Hope you kept him in line,” Jackson teased, “he can be a handful.”

Jenny laughed, shaking her head. She ran her hand up and down Jethro’s thigh thoughtfully. “I tried my best.”

Jackson shook his head. Some of the blanks were slowly starting to fall in place, he’d heard about Leroy being sent to Europe, but the details had been unclear. The relationship between these two were in fact much more serious and complicated than he had thought. Drowning the last of his coffee, he cleared his throat and slowly got to his feet.

“Well, I have to get goin’. Store can’t run itself and the kid helping out is still too young to manage on his own.” Taking his truck keys from where they usually resided, he cast a glance at his two guests. “Leroy, the sheets in your old room have been changed, I trust you two will make yourselves comfortable. See you kids for lunch.”

“See ya, Dad.” Jethro called after his father.

Jenny pursed her lips, eyes scanning around the old kitchen. The front door closed with a heavy thud and she finally turned her attention back to Jethro. “Guess we can’t hide the fact that we’re sleeping together.”

Jethro snorted, shaking his head. She leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing softly. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Tired?” they had been up early, and he knew she didn’t always have the energy.

“Little bit,” she mumbled, “think I ate too much.”

“You gonna be sick?” he sounded panicked.

Jenny laughed softly, “No, I feel fine.” Lifting her head, she smiled up at him, “Think I just need to lie down.”

* * *

Jenny followed behind Jethro, taking in all the old pictures decorating the hall. Abby had told her that the Stillwater case had revealed that there was in fact an older Gibbs. After learning about Shannon and Kelly, she didn’t really question Jethro’s need to hide something as trivial as that. Taking in the old family memorabilia, she noticed that his mother seemed to disappear from the pictures.

Pressing her lips together, she cast a glance at his back, realising that he avoided looking at the pictures. Years as an investigator made it easy to piece together the reality of the story the pictures were telling. She paused just outside the door he disappeared behind. It explained why he never talked about his family. She could relate to that more than she was willing to admit. She’d cut off her own family after her father’s death.

The room seemed to be untouched. A glimpse into the life of a once teenage Jethro Gibbs.

The walls were light blue, the large window letting in a lot of natural light. A poster of a yellow Dodge Challenger was testament of his love for the V8 sitting outside. A Marine Corps poster made her smile. She’d often thought of him as a young Marine, a fantasy she’d kept to herself. An old dresser sat under the window, a few knick knacks adorning the top.

Walking towards the desk sitting in the far-right corner, she studied the neatly stacked comic books. Picking up the small pile, she slowly went through them. They were typical 1970s comic books, from _The Hulk_ to _Superman_.

“Does McGee know you have these?”

Jethro stopped rummaging through one of the night stand drawers. “Nah, he’d want them.”

Jenny shook her head, knowing that young Timothy McGee would have a heart attack if he knew his boss had a few rare comic books lying around. Going through a few more of the books, she stilled when an aged poster slipped from between the books.

Unable to contain her curiosity, she put the books back where she found them in their neat stack. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Jethro was still preoccupied. She grinned to herself when she noticed the classic _Playboy_ title in the corner of the page. Opening the poster, she couldn’t hold back the laughter.

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you were one naughty boy.”

He spun around, looking at her slightly confused. He felt the colour drain from his cheeks, watching her green eyes glint dangerously. The old 1968 centrefold of Ann-Margret stared back at him. “I found it.”

“Uh-huh,” Jenny closed the worn poster, “that the story you told your dad?”

He seemed uncomfortable ignoring her question by busying himself with their luggage.

“Well at least now I know why you like redheads so much.” She couldn’t help but tease him. She doubted he remembered sticking the poster between the comic books. If only Tony knew how womanising his boss could be.

“You want the top or bottom drawer?” Jethro asked as he dropped the duffel on the dresser, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“We can share.” She pressed herself into his back, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He placed his hands over hers, stopping her from slipping them under his shirt. He chuckled softly, he’d fallen victim to her cold fingers before. “Underwear’s gonna be in the second drawer.”

“I didn’t bring underwear.” She spoke in his ear. The tension in his muscles was obvious as she smoothed her hands over his abdomen.

“Jen,” he sighed quietly, “you’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Things between them were getting more complicated. It was easy being with him and sometimes she forgot they were far from being perfect.

“Don’t,” he grabbed her hands, “it’s just been a while since… you know.”

The embarrassment was obvious in his voice. They were well beyond just being friends. Almost a year ago she had hinted that she was ready to start a relationship with him. Timing had never been her strong suit, especially since he’d just ended his relationship with Hollis Mann.

Pushing away from him, she took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Jethro,” she swallowed, not exactly sure what she wanted to say. “You know that no relationship between us will be conventional.”

He was facing her, leaned back against the dresser, watching as she picked at the threads of her jeans.

“I’ve told you before that I can’t always give you what you want.” She focused on the Marine poster plastered on the wall. “I-” she sighed, “I can’t physically give you what you want.”

Jethro took a seat next to her, taking her hand in his. He’d long since suspected there was more to her need for them to avoid being physical. At times it confused him. She could kiss the life right out of him, sleep plastered against him, but she was distant all the same.

“You don’t want to be… physical?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Reaching for his hand, she laced her fingers with his. “Some things have changed. I’m not the same woman from nine years ago.”

Jethro tilted his head slightly, eyebrows knit together. “Jen, is this because of the operation?” He didn’t want to scare her off from opening up to him, but he didn’t want her shutting him out either.

Shaking her head, she looked down at their hands. “It’s not just that.” Licking her lips, she met his gaze. “The chemo therapy has some side effects apart from the obvious.” She gave him a knowing look. “I’ve noticed the changes these last few days.”

“Bad changes?” He was growing concerned, wondering if she was hiding something serious from him.

“Not serious, just a change.” This was harder than she thought, deciding to be blunt with him, “Jethro I’ve wanted to sleep with you the first moment you _slept_ next to me.”

Grey eyebrows nearly shot into his hair line, cheeks a soft pink as he blushed. Feeling the heat in her own cheeks, she smiled sheepishly, “Geiger warned me that the chemo therapy could have an influence on my libido. Since I’m between chemo cycles, there’s nothing interfering with… well, you know.”

Jethro nodded slowly, smiling at her. “We don’t have to rush this, Jen.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles, “We’re taking this slow.”

Slipping her fingers in his hair, she pulled him closer. She lazily flicked her eyes over his features, smiling as he licked his lip. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his. Closing her eyes, she felt his fingers run over her thigh, squeezing softly as she deepened the kiss. He cupped the back of her neck, tongue tentatively brushing over her lower lip. Eagerly parting her lips, he groaned softly.

She pulled away slowly, breathing against the tightness in her chest. Jethro pressed his nose against her cheek, placing soft kisses along her jaw. Cupping his cheeks, she stroked the soft skin, noting the light scar under his left eye.

“Can I interest you in a nap?” she noted the sudden hunger in his eyes. Blue eyes flicked to her lips, nodding slowly.

Toeing of their shoes, they settled close to each other. Jenny casually threw her leg over his hip, settling them into a very familiar position. He seemed distracted, he had the same far away look in his eyes during breakfast. He suddenly took a deep breath, realising she was looking at him thoughtfully.

Leaning down, he kissed her, trying to block out the thoughts that were slowly gnawing away at him.

“We won’t be able to do this once I start chemo again.” She sighed dejectedly. There was a questioning look on his face. “There’s risk of exposure to you for at least three days after each treatment. So there can’t be any kissing,” she trailed a hand over his chest, “or other things.”

A light blush tinted his cheeks, “Guess we’ll have to get creative some days.”

Reaching up hesitantly, he undid the little bow that kept her scarf secure on her head. He heard her swallow heavily. It was still something to get used to, but she seemed less panicked than usual as he removed the floral scarf.

“Ever thought you’d be with a woman with a buzz cut?” She teased as he gently smoothed his hand over her head. Resting a hand on the back of her neck, he shook his head.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he heard her little snort of laughter. She snuggled closer, nestling her face against his chest.

He listened as her breathing evened out. Sometimes he envied her ability to sleep for hours on end without even stirring. It largely had to do with all the medication and chemotherapy. As a young agent she’d been read to jump into action at any given moment. Now he struggled to get her out of bed most days.

The change of environment seemed to have done the trick. He suspected Jackson’s stories and jokes had brought on the good mood. She seemed a bit more at ease, the darkness in her features momentarily gone. Running his hand over her back comfortingly, he allowed his thoughts to drift.

The sound of the front door opening and closing had him reach for his hip out of instinct. Taking a second to orientate himself for a second, he slowly became aware of where he was. Jenny was still curled up against him, back again his chest. He didn’t even realise he’d fallen asleep, glancing at his watch he surmised that his father was home for lunch.

Freeing himself from the death grip Jenny had on his arm, he slipped his boots on and went to find his father.

The old man was predictably in the kitchen, already sipping at freshly brewed cup of coffee.

Filling a cup, he joined his father at the breakfast table, sipping his own coffee thoughtfully. He could sense his father was burning to ask questions, but he appreciated his obvious restraint.

Clearing his throat, Jackson straightened slowly. Placing his cup on the table, he twisted it around thoughtfully, watching the coffee slosh around in the cup. “You two settle in okay?”

“Yeah, Jen’s asleep. Trip was more taxing than I thought.”

“You two have a history,” he studied his son closely, “as more than just friends.”

Jethro shook his head, a disbelieving laugh slipping accidentally. “That obvious, huh?”

Jackson gave his son a knowing smile. He sure as hell wasn’t blind, especially when it came to his son and the changes in his personality. He’d noticed the change the moment he’d met them at the front door. A few months ago his son still had the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. Making him cold and distant. There was definitely an openness to his son that he’d never seen before.

“I’m your father, Leroy, I’ve seen you in relationships before.” Jackson informed his son. “She seems good for ya.” The raise of an eyebrow drew a light chuckle.

“It’s been a rough year.” He muttered under his breath. As comfortable and sometimes happy as they were together, a few months ago he was sure they would’ve killed each other if they had the chance.

Jackson didn’t miss the comment, but he didn’t want to pry too much into their personal lives. “How long has she been sick?”

Narrowing his eyes, he looked at his father thoughtfully. Grinding his teeth, he dropped his gaze to his hands as they rested around his mug. Tension coiled his muscles as he thought back to the first time he suspected something was wrong. He should’ve followed his gut, instead of letting Jenny bullshit him into believing her cold facade. “More than a year, I suspected something last year April.”

“You two didn’t talk about it?”

“Dad,” he sighed, “it’s complicated.”

Jackson picked up on the sudden mood change, realising his questioning had gone a little far. “How bad is it, Son?”

Jethro drained his coffee, staring out the window at the backyard. Swallowing, he looked back at his dad, realising he was the only person who actually knew what he was going through. He glanced down the hallway, making sure they were still alone.

“She was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer. She had surgery two weeks ago…” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, suddenly over come with suppressed emotion. “Mastectomy, it was the only way they could stop the cancer from spreading. She’ll start her second round of chemo therapy in a few weeks time. Doc just wants to let her heal first. She’s been a real fighter, didn’t want any of my help.”

“But?”

Jethro glanced at his father, seeing the concern in his familiar blue eyes. He chewed the inside of his cheek. Since finding out, he hadn’t really talked about it to anyone. Mainly out of respect for Jenny’s privacy, but few people really understood what it was like watching someone you cared for suffer. He wasn’t big on discussing his personal life either, but sometimes it got to him when he spent time alone with his boat.

“It’s bad, Dad.” Jethro sighed. “The cancer is aggressive. There’s a possibility of it coming back in the other breast.”

Jackson hung his head. Reaching out, he placed a hand on his son’s arm, offering him silent support. Never in his life did he think his son would go through this again. Life seemed like a cruel cycle for his boy.  He had to say goodbye to his mother at a young age and  tragically  lost  his wife and daughter. Now it seemed that the only other person who had managed to steal his hear t was going to be ripped away from him.

“Jethro,” his father only ever called him that when he was being serious, “I know you’re aware of how ugly this gets. I don’t have to explain the reality of what cancer does to a family.” Jackson sat back in his chair, swallowing down tears the memories elicited. “There were a lot of things that you didn’t see. The emotional pain, Son, it’s not easy.”

Jethro stayed silent watching his father deal in his own way with what happened in the past. “I know, Dad.”

Jackson gave him a grim smile. “She’s going to need you when things get rough, and it’s not always easy watching the person you love go through something like this.” The old man cleared his throat, “You’re gonna have to make a decision, Son.”

Silver eyebrows knit together as Jethro studied his father. “About what?”

“Whether you’re going to be in this relationship for the long haul. You’re going to rely on each other even if she is sick. Some days are going to be tough and when life gets tough you’re gonna have to fight together, you can’t just walk away.”

Jethro opened and closed his mouth. There was no smart retort. His father was talking from experience. They weren’t exactly the most ideal of partners; they preferred to hide behind their issues than confronting them. It made him wonder if they were really that transparent that his father had picked up on it.

“Don’t make the same mistake your mother and I did, Leroy.” Jackson drained the last of his coffee. “Talk, son. I know you’re not big on that, but you have to try because time isn’t always on your side.”

Jethro was about to answer when the floorboards creaked right outside the bedroom they were staying in. Leaning back in his chair, he looked down the hall, smiling as Jenny secured the black beanie on her head and moseyed her way down the hall.

Pulling out the chair next to him, Jenny took a seat, rubbing at her eyes. “Hi, Jack.”

The older man greeted her warmly, excusing himself from the table. “Do you want some coffee, Jenny?”

She paled visibly at the thought. “No, thank you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stomach it.”

Jackson nodded, filling his own cup with coffee. “Got some ginger tea, if you’re up for it. Should help with the nausea.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Jethro placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take a moment to wake up. I’ll make you a cup.”

Taking his cup with him, Jethro refilled it and set about brewing her a cup of tea. They’d managed to figure out that the nausea was related to the pain medication the doctor had prescribed. It was the only medication that worked, so she put up with the nausea instead.

“You kids have plans for tonight?” Jackson sat at the table again, glancing between them.

Jethro leaned against the counter, watching with amusement as Jenny simply blinked. She hated him for it, but he found it incredibly endearing how confused she sometimes was after waking up.

“Thought we’d go out for dinner.” Jethro answered as the kettle boiled. He quickly set about making the tea. “Know you’ve got poker with the guys tonight.”

“Well then, that’s settled.” Jackson pushed his cup away. Getting to his feet he leaned on his cane, giving Jenny a soft smile. “I hope you feel better.” Heading for the front door he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t wait up, Leroy. Take the house keys. I’ll use the spare.” His voice faded as he neared the front door. “You kids have fun.”

* * *

The Pennsylvanian air was cold, the wind almost biting as it swept through the streets. Thunder rumbled in the distance ominously. Jethro shook off the chill, opening the passenger door of the Dodge Challenger, the yellow V8 didn’t exactly blend in. Half the street had looked at them as he tried finding a parking spot.

Jenny stepped out, touching the headscarf nervously. Fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, she looked at her reflection in the car window while Jethro locked the door. She’d opted for the dark silky green headscarf, one she’d noticed he liked. It was the only one that went with her black sweater and jeans. She was thankful for the sneakers she’d opted for, not sure her toes would survive the cold.

She easily reached for his hand as they slowly strolled down the side walk. She watched on with amusement as Jethro grumbled a ‘hello’ at a few people. He wasn’t exactly the friendliest of people to approach sometimes and it definitely stopped anyone from striking up small talk with him. Laughing under her breath at his behaviour, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, nestling her into his side.

He led her towards an old diner, the neon sign bright as they neared it.

A tiny bell announced their arrival in the busy restaurant. The booths were filled with families enjoying their Friday night. It was evident the diner still looked the same as the day it had opened its door. Blue seats filled the booths, the chequered floor showing obvious signs of ageing. Old photographs and posters decorated the walls.

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs, is that you standin’ in my diner?”

The voice came from a woman in her mid seventies, small in stature, the lines on her face giving away her age. Hair white as snow, the short locks were permed, held in place with copious amounts of hairspray. The yellow uniform she wore was similar to those of the younger waitresses. There was a softness in her brown eyes as she studied the man before her, hands on her hips.

Jethro clenched his jaw, realizing half the diner had turned to look at him. There were a number of familiar faces filling the seats. It was one of the few places that survived over the years. Ignoring everyone, he allowed a small smile to slip over his lips as the old woman marched towards them. He felt Jenny move away, standing off to the side.

“Janet Miller,” he greeted. The small woman didn’t waste any time, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

“It’s so good to see you.” She mumbled against his shoulder, taking a step back she cupped his cheeks tenderly. “You’re still the most handsome man in all of Stillwater.”

“Bet you say that to all the men.” Jethro teased, taking a step back. He moved closer to Jenny, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Jenny, I’d like you to meet Janet Miller. She used to smack my ass when my parents weren’t around to do it.”

“He was a real handful when he was kid.” Janet defended, offering her hand.

Jenny returned the gesture, giving the woman a warm smile. “He still is.”

Janet threw her head back, letting out a heartfelt laugh. “It’s a pleasure to meet you my dear. Jackson told us all about you when he dropped by to pick up George. Told us you’re used to keeping this one in line.” She pointed at Jethro, shooting him a soft smile.

He returned the smile, slipping his hand around Jenny’s hip and squeezing her closer. He knew his father was talkative, but he didn’t want him going around telling everyone about them. Everyone knew they’d lost Ann Gibbs to the same thing Jenny was battling with. She was perceptible enough to pick up people were hiding something when they looked at the two of them.

“How ‘bout you two get a booth and I’ll be around to take your orders?”

Jethro nodded, leading Jenny through the diner to the most secluded booth they could find.

They settled in their booth, quickly placing their orders. Jethro played with a sugar packet, watching the people mulling about the diner. A few faces were still familiar, some were old class mates and other people he recognised from his time working at the General Store. Dropping the sugar packet back on the table where he’d found it, he turned his attention back to Jenny.

She sat with her back to the rest of the diner, staring out the window as the sun slowly started setting below the horizon. He knew it was her way of taking the attention off her. People had a tendency to stare and even though she was used to being in the spotlight, this wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted.

“You still with me?” Jethro broke the silence between them.

Green eyes snapped to him, as if just realising he was there with her. She nodded briefly, fingers touching the scarf again, making sure it was still in place.

“Here we go,” Janet appeared out of nowhere. “One black coffee,” she slid the cup towards Jethro, “and one strawberry shake.” She placed the tall glass in front of Jenny. “What else can I get you kids?”

“Steak and fries,” Jethro answered, “Jen will have the Miller burger.”

“Excellent choice, honey.” Janet winked at her before leaving them in peace.

Jethro watched in amusement as Jenny took a sip of her shake. Emerald eyes closed in pleasure, a quiet noise escaping her throat. She licked her lips, another noise slipping. He swallowed a little heavily. Memories of hot Parisian nights flooding his mind. Their first night in Paris they’d stumbled across a small restaurant that specialised in classic American cuisine. She’d ordered almost the exact same, driving him insane with the sounds she made.

“You enjoying ya self, Jen?” He noted the blush that shot across the bridge of her nose.

Watching the straw sink, she met his darkened gaze, “Jealous?”

He looked down at his coffee cup, watching the steam rise slowly. She couldn’t hide that she knew what he was thinking about. Their love affair had been wild and passionate, creating a lot of exciting memories. Reaching for his hand, he met her halfway. She ran her fingers over his palm, feeling the hard calluses.

“If you think about it,” she saw his blue eyes twinkle in the light, “that was our first date.”

He’d never thought of it that way. The night he did take her out to dinner, or what they tried to pass off as a date six people died. It made sense she preferred thinking of their little longing of home as their first date. He smiled at the memory.

“Prefer that over six dead bodies.” He muttered softly.

They fell silent again. Jenny turned her attention back to the window, watching the last slither of light fade away. He simply took the moment to look at her. Despite the health issues she’d gone through and all the physical changes, she was still beautiful. She chewed the inside of her lip, green eyes unfocused as she stared out the window.

“Jen?” she looked at him unable to hide the worry in her eyes. “What’s bothering you?”

Soothing her lip, she let out a quiet sigh. “I’ve been thinking,” she started, eyes focused on her straw.

The silence seemed to drag on, making his gut churn. “Yeah?”

She pursed her lips for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about selling the house, or putting it up for rent until I make a decision.” She rubbed at her forehead. “There’s a small three bedroom house with a basement not far from where I am now. It’s got a bigger backyard.”

He sat back, brows knitted together. The house had been in her family for years from what he gathered. It seemed very sudden. “What brought this on?”

She shrugged, he seemed more concerned than she thought he would be. “It’s a five bedroom house…” she trailed off, “Some days I can hardly get off the couch, much less make it up the stairs. A young family seems interested. They have two young kids, twin boys. It’s a great house to raise a family in.”

He sensed the regret in her words. Not so much about letting the house or the memories go, but that there was no one to share her home with her. “It’s up to you, Jen.”

“You don’t think I’m making a mistake?”

He shook his head. It made sense she’d want something smaller and a little easier on her health. “As long as it’s got a basement, it’s great.”

Jenny let out a laugh. “No, Jethro Gibbs, you are not building a boat in my basement.”

He raised his hands innocently, “Never said anythin’ about a boat, might be too small, think a canoe might work.”

He let out a snort of laughter at his own little joke, delighted in the fact that she seemed to enjoy his humour. Schooling his features a little, he leaned closer to her, resting on his elbows. He took a deep breath, “I know this isn’t fancy, Jen. But no one here cares who we are.”

She turned serious, a soft smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. She knew what he meant. In DC every fancy restaurant in the city knew her face and her entire pedigree. Their little dinner date meant a lot to her. Jethro Gibbs was a notoriously private person and she suspected he was placing himself in a difficult position, opening up the way he was. She was seeing a different side to him. It made her wonder. If the stress from their job had never interfered, maybe they would’ve been able to make it work.

She mirrored his position, feeling him study her features. “Jethro, it’s perfect.”

He was about to lean forward to kiss her when he spotted Janet approaching them. “We have an audience,” he whispered as he sat back.

The diner was slowly growing less crowded as they ate, the noise settling. They enjoyed their dinner in relative peace, reminiscing over their time in Paris.

Jethro watched as Jenny looked out the window again, watching a couple of drunks trying to navigate the side walk. She didn’t seem to pay too much attention to him, and he risked stealing some of her fries. The sudden movement caught her attention. She looked down at her plate, sending him a light glare as he forced an innocent smile.

“Did you just-” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He returned innocently, but she’d caught his bluff.

Trying to keep the facade for long enough, she eventually smiled at him, pushing the plate to the middle of the table. “I don’t know if I’ll finish everything. I think I expected too much of myself.” She laughed, popping another fry in her mouth.

He grinned at her, taking another fry. The last couple of weeks she’d hardly had much to eat, either feeling nauseous or not having much of an appetite. The fact that she’d managed to finish more than half her plate boded well in his mind.

Janet was slowly working her way through the booths. Jethro drained his coffee, seeing the fries slowly become less, “You want dessert to go?”

She shook her head, “I’d say yes, but I know it’ll just go to waste. I’m already paying for eating this much.”

He gave her a sympathetic look.

Janet appeared next to them, looking tired from tending to the Friday night crowd. “Are you kids ready for dessert?” she sent Jethro a smile as he gave an eager nod.

“Just one.”

“The usual, Leroy?” She laughed at his knowing look before disappearing again.

Jenny pushed her empty plate away, sitting back and letting out a heavy sigh. “I can’t remember the last time I ate that much.”

He smiled at her. After his conversation with his father, there were a number of things he’d mulled over. The comment she just made didn’t help his guilt either. He should’ve pushed Ducky a year ago to tell him what was going on with Jenny.

The silence between them suddenly felt thick with things left unsaid.

“I’m guessing your love for diners started here?”

Her question forced him to focus on something else for the moment. It was his turn to look out the window, watching the late night crowd flock towards the bar. “Yeah,” he looked back at her. Blue eyes suddenly guarded, “Mom used to work here.”

Jenny watched him tentatively as he tried hiding the emotions. His Adams apple bobbed, the swallow audible. She suddenly regretted asking. The interaction between father and son had seemed friendly, but she had a feeling if they spent more time together they were bound to start a fight.

“I didn’t mean to pry.” She whispered quietly when he didn’t seem to be more forth coming with information.

He didn’t look at her, instead staring at the chips on the tables surface. He gave an imperceptible shake of his head, a far away smile on his face. “They met here. Dad had just joined the Air Force. Both Dad and George worked in the mines. George had bought the place around the same time Dad and LJ opened the General Store.”

She reached for his hand as he fingered one of the chipped holes on the table. Placing a hand over his roughened one, he looked up at her. There was something he wasn’t telling her, she’d noticed when Jackson had left them to their afternoon.

“I see why this place is so special.”

Jethro twitched his eyebrows in agreement. Their moment of silent reflection was interrupted as Janet placed a large piece of apple pie smothered in chocolate sauce in front of them. She quickly excused herself, tending to new customers.

“All these years I thought you hated sugar.” The amusement was evident in her voice as Jethro eagerly shovelled down a piece of pie.

He shrugged his shoulder, talking around a mouthful of food, “Only special occasions.”

He rather enjoyed the light blush that tainted her cheeks. He was relieved that she seemed to be enjoying their little date. “Sure you don’t want some?”

She predictably shook her head. But he was pleasantly surprised when she leaned across the table to kiss away the chocolate that had been on his lips.

* * *

The tightening of her abdominal muscles drew her out of her peaceful slumber. Jenny squirmed, quickly reaching for the large hand that had found its way under her shirt. Pressing his large palm against her stomach, she sighed contentedly. It was the first night she’d actually managed to sleep through without waking in the middle of the night because Jethro had been called out on a case. There was a dull throb of pain in her chest, but she wanted to go without pain medication at least until she ate something.

A discontented growl from behind her had her smiling. He easily picked up his ministration again. Callused fingers rough against her sensitive skin, reminding her of early mornings in Paris. He moved closer behind her, chest pressed against her back.

“Mornin’,” he breathed softly in her ear, his light stubble against her neck sending a shiver down her spine. There was a sudden flood of heat in her lower abdomen and she instinctively squeezed her thighs together. He pressed a soft kiss against her cheek.

Turning, his hand slid over her side, drifting down and settling on the small of her back. She’d moved closer trying to steal his warmth, and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He let out a quiet hum, still groggy.

It was her favourite part of their mornings together. Watching him slowly wake up, blue eyes soft and just a little unguarded. He blinked at her lazily, indicating he’d had a good night’s rest.

Kissing along his jaw, she finally kissed him good morning, feeling the pressure on her lower back increase as he tried closing the distance between them. “Morning,” she whispered against his lips, smiling as he kissed her again.

“How you feeling?” He adjusted the beanie on her head, pulling it over her cold ears. She’d taken a turn for the worst when they got back, feeling nauseous and generally unwell.

“Better,” she stretched against him, sliding her body against his intimately. “Think I just ate too much.”

Jethro gave a grunt in agreement, shifting his hips away from hers. She immediately noticed, a slight blush colouring her cheeks. The familiar warmth had simply intensified after he’d kissed her, she could only imagine what he was going through.

Swallowing nervously, she ignored the pain that was slowly spreading and slipped her thigh between his. It was impossible to miss the lazy erection pressed against her tight, or the way he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

“Jenny,” he breathed hoarsely.

One hand rested on his chest as she pressed her nose against his cheek. It had been years since she’d woken up feeling like this. If she were honest with herself, Jethro had been the only man she allowed to spend the night, and usually the better part of the morning in her bed. She breathed him in.

There was still a hint of aftershave that clung to him, something aching towards vanilla but she never could identify it. She’d always expected him to smell like coffee and wood shavings. Instead he always smelled so good and so damn warm.

She shifted her hips against him, trying to relieve her own ache.

Jethro let out a tense breath, realising she was spurring him on. Finding her lips easily, he coaxed her into a kiss. He hardly noticed the taste of the early morning on her breath, he never could care about any of that. He felt the soft planes of her body mould against him.

Neither could ignore his now obvious arousal. She seemed to sense his need and slowly started moving against him, relieving her own needs. He knew her well enough to recognise that her dilated pupils meant she’d woken up with the same hunger.

The heat between them slowly started building, his hips eagerly seeking hers. He felt his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen but he couldn’t find it in himself to break their kiss.

The sudden thundering knock forced them apart. “If you two are ready, I got breakfast!” Jackson’s voice travelled through the door.

Jenny felt the heat in her cheeks rise. Burying her face in Jethro’s chest, she couldn’t help but wonder if Jackson had been suspicious of their closed door.

“Yeah, Dad! Thanks, be right out!”

There was a quite grumble before the distinct thump of Jackson’s cane echoed down the hall.

Jethro ground his teeth, casting a glance at his watch. Shifting away from Jenny, he couldn’t hide the smile at the guilt written on her face. “It’s almost nine. He’s not big on people sleeping in.”

“How are you this calm?” She hissed quietly, perturbed by his lack of embarrassment.

Jethro shrugged. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like a sixteen-year-old caught with the centrefold in his hands. But he’d been a father for eight years, and in that short period a number of embarrassing things had happened. He didn’t feel comfortable talking about it just then but he’d try and explain it later. They had to get up before Jackson decided to barge into their room.

Pulling her jeans over her hips, she snatched Jethro’s red hoodie. Modesty had long since flown out the window the moment she’d made herself right at home on his thigh. Making sure the beanie was still in place, she finally faced Jethro, hoping he was dressed.

“Why are you still in bed?” green eyes flashed dangerously as he simply stared back at her.

He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at her. The quirked eyebrow had him rolling his eyes. “Jen,” he growled, leaving no room for questions.

“Oh,” she pressed her lips together, feeling the heat in her cheeks rise. “Right… I forgot about-” cutting herself off, she made her way to the door before things got even more awkward. She popped her head around the door, green eyes smouldering as she openly leered at him. “Ann-Margret is still between the comic books.”

“Jen,” he grumbled.

“And Jethro,” he scowled at her, “don’t ruin the sheets.”

“Jennifer.”

The last thing he heard was her soft snicker as she closed the door.

Jenny shook her head, chastising herself for making Jethro uncomfortable. The smell of bacon greeted her, stomach growling at the promise of food.

To his credit, Jackson was pottering around the kitchen as if he hadn’t just forced them out of bed. Leaning heavily on his cane, he continued with the scrambled eggs. Despite his age and deteriorating health, there was nothing wrong with his hearing. He listened as light footsteps moved down the hall hesitantly.

“Good morning,” he rasped.

“Morning,” he could hear the smile in her voice.

Turning off the flame, he placed the scrambled eggs on the breakfast table with the rest of the food. Pulling out her chair, he smiled at her charmingly as she accepted his invite.

“Sleep well?” He took a seat with her, already reaching for the bacon.

Further down the hall the bathroom door closed with a loud slam, drawing an eye roll.

“Yes, I did, thank you.” Jenny reached for the fresh stack of pancakes, unable to resist. “It’s so quiet,” she continued, slowly making her way through the plates of food. “The city’s always busy.”

Jackson hummed quietly, “Never understood how you folk could survive with that racket. All that hustle and bustle, makes ya old.”

She picked at her bacon. A part of her felt compelled to correct him, the side that had stayed at work well into the night because she was too much of a workaholic. Since the moment she’d joined FLET-C she couldn’t think of one instance she’d actually taken a holiday. Or a moment to just take a breath. She watched Jackson quietly as he reached for his morning paper.

Age hadn’t exactly been kind to him. It was obvious that he was pushing well into his seventies. The lines on his face spoke of worry and heartache. Evidence that he’d lived a life full of ups and downs. She was sure the lines around his mouth were from the cheeky smile he’d passed on to his son. He had a lot to show for everything he had gone through. A son that was the most honourable man she knew and a home that held memories both sad and joyous.

All she had was an empty house and a picture of her dead father.

The bathroom door opened and heavy footsteps echoed towards them.

The two men grunted at each other in acknowledgement. Jethro secured three cups and poured them each a cup of the coffee that had been slowly brewing.

Jackson peered over his paper, watching the two people with amusement. He would have to be blind to miss the awkwardness between them. From what little Leroy had been willing to reveal about their relationship he’d surmised that at one point they had been serious about each other. An early morning phone call to Abby had yielded nothing more. But he did pick up on the young woman’s surprise when he’d mention that they were visiting him.

He suspected, and his suspicions were hardly ever wrong, he had interrupted something this morning. They seemed a little more comfortable around each other, as if something between them had finally snapped. He watched with a light smile as they read the paper together.

Leroy wasn’t exactly an easy man to love, especially after Shannon and Kelly had died. Some days he held himself responsible for raising him the way he had. After Ann’s death he’d watched his son rebel against everything and everyone. The local sheriff had expressed his concerns over his son’s knack for starting fights. When Leroy had told him he’d joined the Core, he had hoped they could teach him the things he had failed to as a father.

The landline startled him from his thoughts. Letting out a quiet groan, he struggled to his feet.

“Gibbs residence.” Jackson answered just in time.

Jethro tried to gather who had called his father from the one sided conversation. He could see the old man frown and nod thoughtfully.

“Okay, honey, you stay put. I’ll be round in a few minutes just gotta get my tools.” The phone connected with the receiver.

“You need help?” Jethro asked as he saw his father search for the truck’s keys.

“The Jefferson girl’s car won’t start. She’s gotta get to the clinic before her shift starts.” Jackson answered distractedly as he finally found the keys.

Jethro shovelled the last of his food in his mouth. “I’ll go. If I can’t get it workin’ I’ll drop her off. If it’s the battery, it’s better to replace it instead of it happening to her again when she needs to get home tonight.” He was already up and taking the keys from his dad. “Keep Jen company. She’s probably tired of me by now.”

Jenny rolled her eyes, pulling her face at him playfully.

“Okay, she lives on the corner of Montgomery and Beaumont. Drives a blue Ford.”

Jethro nodded, grabbing a piece of bacon. He leaned down, kissing Jenny before heading for the door.

Jackson hid his smile at the stunned look on her face before she tried hiding the small happy smile.

Pushing away her plate, she looked up at Jackson, returning his kind smile. “Thank you, Jack. Breakfast was delicious, I see where Jethro learned how to make pancakes.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Gets your batteries charged.” The smile on his face suddenly lost some of its sparkle. “My wife used to say that.” Shaking his head, the smile didn’t fade, “You’re more than welcome to go wash up. Just gonna do the dishes.”

“Please let me help. It’s the least I can do.”

“No, no, it’s alright.”

“Come on, Jack. Let me help.” Taking her plate, she headed straight for the sink, “Jethro’s very sweet when he tries to do everything for me, but I’m not an invalid.” Shooting him a sly smile, “I won’t take no for an answer.”

The old man relented, wondering just how his son could resist such a beautiful smile. He didn’t miss the gleam of relief in her eyes as he finally relented. A part of him was relieved that his son seemed to be taking very good care of her. Leroy, despite all his flaws, enjoyed helping ever since he was a child. It did him good knowing his son turned out to be a fine man after all.

“Okay, missy, you wash and I’ll dry.”

They easily fell instep beside each other, quickly gathering the dirty dishes and setting about getting them cleaned.

“You know,” Jackson started, drying off a plate as he stood next to Jenny, staring out the window, “Leroy’s always been a helper. You ask that boy to help; he’d do it at the drop of a hat. He’d grumble about it, but he’d put his heart and soul into doin’ it.”

Jenny smiled softly, watching the old man as he reminisced over days gone by. He sent her a lucrative glance, mischief dancing his blue eyes.

“He’s going to kill me, for telling you this,” Jackson barely held back his laughter. “Leroy was about three when we bought the old truck. It was the first hot day of spring. Boy had just gotten over a bout of the flu. I’d mentioned that I was gonna wash the truck and he was adamant that he was well enough to help.”

Jenny stopped, intent on listening.

“Ann didn’t want him near the water, but it was hot and he loved splashing about.” He laughed at the memory before continuing, “Left him alone for hardly a second to turn off the hose. Found him stark naked splashing in the water. Took off running down the side walk when I tried catching him. Janet had heard Ann screaming and managed to catch the tyke before all off Stillwater could see him.”

The old man was wiping tears from his eyes, unable to control his laughter. Jenny threw her head back with obvious delight. It was sometimes hard to believe that Jethro had once been a young boy who gave his parents hell with his antics.

“Ann was not happy with me, it only got worse when Leroy had a fever that same night.” Jackson trailed off, obviously lost in his memories.

Jenny observed his change in demeanor. She could finally put a name to the beautiful redhead she’d seen in some of the pictures. Jethro didn’t talk about his childhood or even his parents. He was private, and she had always respected that, understood it even. From what she could tell Ann had been a caring mother and with Jethro being an only child, she was sure his parents had doted on him as they saw fit. At least in her experience that had been the case.

“You know,” she interrupted the silence, “Jethro’s always claimed to never have had a cold or the flu.”

“Ha!” Jackson shook his head in disbelief, “He’d usually be the reason the whole house got sick.” He seemed to ponder something for a moment, “You know, come to think of it I don’t think that boy’s been sick since he was nine.”

Jenny shook her head, a small smile on her lips as she thought of the man they were discussing. “Janet, is this the same Janet we met last night?”

“One and the same,” Jackson informed, slowly putting away the dried plates. “I was still workin’ in the mines back when Leroy was a baby. Money was tight, so Janet would look after him when she was off from her shift at the diner.”

Jenny smiled, from what she’d seen Jethro had been a cute baby.

“Leroy used to be such a happy child.” Jackson sighed softly, the regret hard to miss. He shook his head sadly.

Jenny wiped her hand, rubbing Jackson’s shoulder. The old man seemed to study her. She quirked an eyebrow, seeing there was something on the tip of his tongue.

“He changed a lot after his mother got sick. He’d been forced to deal with things no kid his age should’ve.”

Jenny clenched her jaw, dreading what else he might reveal.

“By the time we found out, the leukaemia had been at an advanced stage and was terminal.” Jackson hardly kept the emotion out of his voice. He never talked about it, not even with his own son. He knew Jenny would understand. She was in a position where she knew the seriousness of the diagnoses and how upsetting it could be to anyone’s life.

“I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t manage more than a whisper. Guilt flooded her consciousness. If she’d known she never would’ve agreed to come here. She never would’ve told Jethro she was sick. She couldn’t subject him to the torture of constantly reminding him how he’d lost his mother.

She suddenly felt out of place, serving only as a reminder of what they had lost. Nausea suddenly settled in the pit of her stomach and she knew it had nothing to do with what she ate. Touching the beanie self consciously, she had the urge to hide for the duration of the day.

“I was really hard on him after his mother had died. Janet and George had jumped in to help those first few months. He was angry at the world and everyone around him. He adored his mother, and he couldn’t take out his anger on anything.”

The dishes had slowly been done and Jenny found herself at a loss for both words and something to do with her hands.

Jackson seemed oblivious to the turmoil he’d created. He was sure Jethro had told her in his own way about Ann, but he knew his son wasn’t much for words. Neither was he, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Folding the dishcloth neatly, he offered her a seat at the breakfast table. Pouring them each some more coffee, he sat next to her.

“You close with your family, Jenny?”

The question startled her, and she found herself floundering for a straightforward answer without giving away too much. “Uh no,” she gulped her coffee, “Mom died after I finished high school. Lost my dad a few years ago. I’m an only child, just have distant relatives.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Jackson offered, reaching for her hand and offering her some comfort.

Jackson switched easily from their dark and emotional discussion to another anecdote from Jethro’s childhood.

She listened distractedly, laughing and responding when she thought it was appropriate. It shouldn’t surprise her that Jethro had kept his mother’s death from her. It wasn’t that he’d lost a parent; she’d lost both of hers shortly after each other. It was more the circumstances that made her look at their relationship in a different light.

None of what they had been through could’ve been easy on him. She hated the thought that each time something happened, or he’d been forced to help her, he thought of his mother. She couldn’t bear the thought that each time he looked at her he saw his mother. Maybe he hoped she’d had the same opportunity to fight her cancer. Jackson was talking animatedly, unaware that she’d stopped listening all together.

It was the sound of the front door opening and closing that forced the old man to stop.

“How’d it go?” Jackson pushed himself away from the table, getting another cup of coffee ready.

“Was just the battery. Already replaced it. Came by so you can pick me up from the clinic after dropping off her car.” Jethro took a seat next to Jenny.

“Coffee and then we go.” Jackson agreed.

Focusing on Jenny, Jethro smiled at her. She seemed pale, and he hoped she wasn’t starting to feel sick. Leaning he tried to kiss her, but she turned her cheek. He frowned, questioning when she’d turned so shy.

“You okay?” He kept his voice low. The easy smile she’d worn when he’d left was gone. Dark green eyes seemed cold and distant.

She sent him a smile and had he not known her for so long he might even have bought it. There was no emotion in the curl of her lips. It was simply to make him happy. “Jethro, I’m fine.”

* * *

What had started out as a weekend away from all the stress and worry, quickly took a turn for the worst. Jackson had dominated the conversation for the remainder of their stay, easing the tension that was slowly building. Sunday morning seemed a little less bright as they said goodbye to Jackson. His father had given him a confused look, aware that there was something off between them.

Jethro rubbed his forehead, his other hand gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. The radio softly blared breaking the stifling silence between them. She’d hardly said two words, simply communicating through whatever sound seemed appropriate.

He opened his mouth before snapping it shut. Whatever he said or asked was bound to set her off. She’d spent the whole night on the opposite side of the bed, blocking each attempt he tried to move closer. Quickly flicking his gaze between her and the road, he settled for staring at the road instead.

The DC skyline was slowly approaching, time slowly running out. They could only ignore each other for so long before his questions got the better of him.

She didn’t seem angry or upset, but then again he wasn’t all that good at reading her any more.

Traffic started increasing as they entered the city limits welcoming them back to the rush that was Washington DC. The Challenger rumbled quietly, expressing its own discontent with their silence.

Figuring he might break the proverbial wall, he asked, “You need anything before we get home?” his tone patient.

Irritation raised his heart rate at the shake of her head. Grinding his teeth, he eased the large V8 along the city streets. The silence dragged on. Not for the first time he wondered if Jackson had said something, but he knew his father wasn’t the root of her sudden mood change.

They approached the familiar intersection. Left would take him through the city to his house and right led straight to Georgetown.

“Take me home.” She spoke for the first time since they left Stillwater.

Not seeing the point in arguing, he turned right.

They were right back to where they had been a year ago. Hardly talking to each other and unable to spare the other a second glance.

Easing the Challenger into the small driveway, he killed the engine. The streets were empty, no sign of the media bloodhounds in sight.

Jenny stared at the old house. It looked like every other house on the street, but she knew lurking behind its closed doors were the demons that kept her company at night.

Jethro was frustrated, she could feel it rolling off him in waves of sidelong glares.

“Did I do something?”

She startled at the unnatural loudness of his voice. Swallowing nervously, she shook her head. There was no reasonable way to explain to him how she felt. He’d brush it off or sweet talk his way through her front door. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s with the silent treatment?” He’d been married enough times to know any form of silence meant he’d screwed up in some way.

“I just want to be alone.” She muttered, hoping she’d be able to get away from him unscathed.

Jethro twisted in his seat with a force that had her blinking in surprise. Blue eyes bore into her, his cheeks flushed as he towered over her. “Ya didn’t want to be alone yesterday morning.” The bitterness in his voice forced her to lean against the door, trying to place more distance between them than what the car allowed.

She suddenly found herself back in Paris. He’d reacted the same way when she’d started gathering the courage to tell him she’d been offered a promotion. Back then she’d been too young and stupid to stand her ground against him. Things were different now, she was different now.

Heat flared through her veins, pain cropping up in her chest.

 _He doesn’t know_. She rationalised with herself, fighting his anger with her own would only lead to hurt emotions between them. The silence stretched between them.

“I can’t put you through this, Jethro.”

He rolled his eyes, rubbing his forehead roughly and clenching his hand in a fist, “Not this again, Jen.” He saw the hurt flash across her face, but it was too late. Once again he’d gone and put his foot in his mouth.

Ignoring both his comment and her tears, she sniffed, “Your father told me about your mother.” She could see the barriers around his emotions rise as his eyes suddenly grew colder. “He thought I knew that she had been sick.” Letting out a defeated sigh, she grimaced, “I’ve stopped trying to figure out why you don’t let people in. But you can’t honestly expect me to go along with this when I know I’m just reminding you of how you lost your mother.”

He didn’t say anything, there really wasn’t much he _could_ say.

His silence seemed to decide their fate.

“No matter what we do, Jethro. Or how hard we try, things between us were never meant to be.”

Jethro swallowed, the hurt slowly sinking its claws into him. She wiped at her cheeks, the flushed skin glistening with tears.

Her voice was thick with emotion, “You might never have loved me, but I know you care.” She gave him a watery smile, “We were only ever meant to be friends.” A brief twitch in her eye had him gritting his teeth.Leaning in, she kissed his lips.

“Bye, Jenny.” He whispered softly against her lips, knowing he’d lost her for good this time.

_**To Be Continued...** _


	7. You're The Only One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I offer you this as a peace offering for not posting sooner, I’ve been struggling with a little writer’s block. Hopefully this chapter makes up for how things ended in the previous one. This story is proving to be quite a challenge, I’ve questioned how true to their characters I’ve stayed throughout this chapter numerous times. This was also heavily influenced by the song You’re the only one which is of course sung by the great Dolly Parton. Hence the title of this chapter. So please enjoy.
> 
> Warning: There are some explicit adult situations in this chapter. If anyone feels that I should up the rating, please PM me.

Anthony DiNozzo strolled off the elevator, backpack slung over one shoulder casually. The squad room was still quiet, most agents opting to show up a little later after the weekend. There was a spring in his step as he easily navigated the short distance to his desk. They had all finished a little earlier than usual on Friday, taking full advantage of their boss taking some ‘personal time’ and the team finally having a weekend off.

The running theory was that it had something to do with Jenny. The boss hardly ever took a day for something personal. They’d all been under strict orders to keep their mouths shut over what happened in Los Angeles and everything else for that matter. Leon Vance had handled the press lurking at the main gate, offering them a very diplomatic speech.

The boss was a tight-lipped man, hardly ever sharing anything with anyone. But the change had been obvious. Gibbs definitely seemed a lot happier than he usually was. The stress had been evident the last two weeks, but Ziva had informed him that Jenny had been in for surgery.

They had concluded that things between the boss and their former director seemed to be heading towards something serious.

He was pleasantly surprised to find the majority of the team already in the bullpen.

Ziva had case files and reports spread out over her desk, still finishing up some of their backlogged paperwork. McGoody-Two-Shoes was doing a very poor job and seeming interested in what Abby had to say. The Goth scientist in question was perched precariously on their boss’ desk, swinging her boot clad feet back and forth.

Greetings were exchanged as he packed away his stuff and sank behind his desk. He’d sensed Abby’s excitement the moment he’d spotted her. Judging by the look on her face, she was dying to tell them something. Shifting the things on his desk around so he looked busy when the boss stormed in, he clasped his hands behind his head.

“What are you doing here so early, Abs?” She was the only one allowed to arrive a few minutes before they were officially on the clock.

Black lips curled into a smile, green eyes sparkling, feet swinging a little faster.

“Guess who called me Saturday morning?” Abby sent them a lucrative grin, rubbing it in their faces that she knew something they didn’t.

“Who?” Tim McGee asked, knowing the other two wouldn’t indulge her.

“No, Timmy! You have to guess. I swear sometimes you’re worse than Gibbs when it comes to guessing.”

Tony snickered, delighted at the back and forth between them. Unable to contain his curiosity over what could have Abby this excited, he caved, “Jack the ripper.” Halloween was approaching and their in house Goth loved the antics the day brought.

“You almost got it, Tony.” She sent him a sweet smile, “Jackson called me.”

Tony sat forward, fully invested in what Abby had to say. “About?” He urged when she wasn’t more forthcoming.

Doing a mandatory scan of the premises, she turned back to the team. “Well, he wanted to know if Gibbs and Jenny had been together while she was Director. Apparently the boss man’s little personal day was so he could take Jenny to meet Jackson.”

Tim frowned, interjecting quickly, “Abby I don’t think this means what you think it does. He probably just took Jenny up there to get away from the press.”

“Pshh, Timmy.” She rolled her eyes at him, “It’s exactly what I think it is, because he wanted to know how long they’ve been together.”

Tony let out a low whistle, wondering if anyone would be interested if he restarted their little betting pool. “So how long would that be if we included Paris?”

“We do not have enough proof there was anything between them.” Ziva finally joined the conversation. She knew that there had definitely been something between the two partners, but thought it best to not give anything away.

“Come on, Ziva,” Tony said indignantly. “It’s the city of love. They were partners. What more could you want?”

“For you to shut it, DiNozzo.” Jethro Gibbs grumbled as he rounded the corner, irritated with the conference commencing in the middle of the bullpen.

Tony cringed, not sure how much his boss had heard, for all they knew he’d been listening to their whole conversation. Thankfully Abby was there to deflect the inevitable slap, saving him from early morning head trauma.

The bubbly scientist bounced happily, ignoring the bad mood Gibbs had dragged in with him. Tony shot Ziva a glance, trying to see if she had picked up on it as well. The deep frown on her forehead was enough to solidify his observation.

Jethro clenched his jaw, trying to indulge their in house Forensic scientist. The last place he wanted to be, was here. A headache was slowly hammering away inside his brain, compliments of the bottle of bourbon he finished last night.

“Did you enjoy your weekend, Gibbs? Did anything we wouldn’t do?”

On any other day, Abby’s excitement would be enough to lighten his bad mood, but not today. Unless she could knock some sense into one Jenny Shepard. “Fine, Abs. Saw my dad.” He grumbled, eyeing the stack of reports that waited for his signature.

“Oh come on, Gibbs. Don’t leave me hanging. What were you up to?” She was goading him against her better judgment, excitement clouding her perception.

“Abby, get off my desk.” He growled darkly, missing the worried look travelling between the three members of his team.

The phone on his desk rang, preventing whatever fallout was about to occur. He listened before slamming the phone in its cradle and gathering his things.

“Body in Rock Creek Park, meet you there.” He holstered his service weapon. “Abs, the Director doesn’t pay you to sit around. Go back to your lab.” He was cold in his delivery, missing the hurt on the young woman’s face.

They were all silent until they were sure he’d disappeared.

“Oh,” Abby sighed, “he looked so sad and grumpy.”

“He’s probably just tired, Abby.” Ziva interjected, knowing she’d prod the subject the whole day.

“Oh no… You don’t think something happened, do you?” Abby fretted, already pacing the floor, worrying her bottom lip.

“Calm down, I’m sure he would’ve told us if something was wrong.” McGee soothed easily, realising the dark turn her thoughts had taken.

“You don’t know that, Timmy.” She stopped in front of his desk, looking at him sadly, “You don’t know how much time you have left until it’s up.”

* * *

The Georgetown mansion glittered in the early morning sunlight. Dust floated through the air lazily, settling in every freshly waxed surface there was. The last two days the old mansion had been deep cleaned from top to bottom.

In an attempt to distract herself from what she’d done to Jethro, Jenny had dived head first into getting the house ready for viewing. She’d woken up alone Monday morning, the quiet and loneliness too much to bare. Noemi had agreed to help her.

It had done little to help her focus her thoughts on something other than what Jethro might be doing. She’d grown attached to his presence, each night expecting him to walk through her door. Each night she waited, and each night he never showed. The loneliness had become unbearable and the silence deafening.

The time had come for her to let go of her past. She’d done what she’d set out to do and now she had to figure out what came next. There was no five-point plan and no revenge driving her. For the first time in her life, she felt utterly lost.

Descending the stairs slowly, she glanced at the time. The house smelled of furniture polish and dust. She’d called the family interested in the house on a whim Monday morning. The young man had sounded excited at the offer. Noemi had been a God sent, quickly helping to whip the house into shape before the young family arrived.

Grabbing the few boxes of cleaning supplies, Jenny quickly stowed them away in the hall closet. The house hadn’t been this clean in ages. She’d expected it to take no more than a day, but was thankful they had made the arrangements for Wednesday.

A quiet grunt from the kitchen lured her farther down the hall.

She found Noemi struggling with the fridge, trying to move it back in place. Moving quickly she helped her move it back in its spot.

“Thank you, Señora Jenny. It was heavier than I expected.” Noemi wiped at her brow, offering her boss a smile.

Jenny laughed, “I finished in the attic. I think I might be sneezing for the next few days.”

The attic had been converted into a small guest bedroom, as if the old house didn’t have enough room as it was. She’d found a few boxes of old Christmas decorations along with a few other items that had been stored up there. The Colonel hadn’t been big on Christmas after her mother died.

“Will you still be needing me if the house is sold, yes?” Noemi looked a little nervous. Change in peoples lives usually meant that she’d have to be looking for a new job. She’d been with Jenny since Jasper Shepard had died.

“Of course, Noemi.” Jenny placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She knew that Noemi had a family to support. Despite their professional relationship she couldn’t imagine her life without her trusted housekeeper.

“Oh!” Noemi stared at her for a split second, “Señora, your nose is bleeding.”

Touching her nose in disbelief, she stared down at her blood stained fingers. She clenched her teeth, pressing her palm to her nose. Noemi was beside her in an instant offering her a tissue. Pressing it to her nose instead, she swallowed against the coppery taste that flooded her mouth.

Taking the makeshift cold compress Noemi offered, she quickly made her way down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

Dropping the tissue in the toilet, she pressed the cold cloth to her nose. Crimson blood stained the white ceramic basin. The erratic thump of her pulse forced her to try and take a breath. Noemi was hovering right by her shoulder, concern written all over her face. She tried forcing a smile, but it did little to ease the worry in her eyes.

“I call Señor Gibbs.” Noemi nodded to herself, knowing he’d be the only one to talk some sense into Jenny.

“No!” Jenny barked, shocking the other woman. “Noemi, I’m fine. He’s working and have other things to worry about.” This time she forced a genuine smile.

The oncology nurse had warned her there would be a possibility of nosebleeds due to a lower platelet count due to the chemotherapy. It hadn’t happened, so she’d written it off as something that wouldn’t happen to her. They had given her instructions on what to do when it did occur, but it didn’t prepare her for what it implied.

It was just another reminder of her failing health. Gritting her teeth, she pushed any thought of Jethro out of her mind. Despite being embarrassed in front of him whenever something went wrong, she’d come to rely on his comfort far too much. She only had herself to thank for how things ended, but keeping secrets had ruined their relationship the first time and she couldn’t do that again.

Moving the cold cloth away from her nose tentatively, she relaxed fractionally seeing the bleeding had stopped. Noemi was still behind her, watching her like a worried mother. She really didn’t deserve her. Looking at herself in the mirror, she sighed at the drops of blood on her shirt.

The doorbell echoed through the quiet house, startling both women.

“Go change, Señora. I will keep them busy.” Noemi squeezed her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

Washing the blood away and cleaning her nose, she quickly sprinted up the stairs.

Changing her shirt and making sure her headscarf was still in place, she heard the voices downstairs as the young family was invited inside.

Not sparing herself a second thought, she rushed down the stairs. Offering their guests a smile, despite the turmoil inside her.

William and Julia Greenstone both came from a long line of military families and both were making a name for themselves on the Hill. She’d always admired the blond couple and how they very obviously complemented each other. William was tall, wearing his military uniform with pride. Julia was small in nature, her features pretty with large blue eyes.

William had expressed interest when she’d joked about selling the house. At the time she’d brushed it off, not realising what was waiting for her in a few months. They seemed to be the perfect choice for the old house, both from wealthy and political families. They’d fit right into the neighbourhood.

“Jenny,” William greeted with a broad smile, “sorry we’re a little late. The twins were a handful.”

The twins smiled up at her, familiar with her after all the events they had attended along with their parents. If she remembered correctly they were almost six and drove their parents crazy on most occasions. Waving at them, they beamed up at her and returned the wave eagerly.

“Don’t worry about it, Noemi and I have had a lot to do.” Jenny placated, shooting her housekeeper a grateful look.

“Thank you for considering us first.” Julia spoke, her voice soft and diplomatic as usual. “We were about to give up hope when you called Monday.”

Jenny returned their smile, “I don’t think I can have this house go to just anyone.” She glanced around the foyer, overcome with childhood memories. Some days when the silence became too much, she could still hear her mother’s voice floating around. “There’s a bit of work here and there. Mainly the doors, they’re old but she’s still in very good shape.”

The couple seemed to share a happy smile. “That’s fine with us, adds character.” William countered, the excitement barely concealed.

The twins were oblivious to the adults, slowly turning their little game of tag into serious rough housing.

“Why don’t you two boys go with Noemi? I’m sure she’s got something in the kitchen for you.” Jenny watched as they stopped their little game, eagerly following behind the housekeeper as she made light conversation with them.

“They’re usually more well behaved.” Julia apologised.

Waving a hand, Jenny grinned, “I’ve worked with special agents who were more immature than them.” The joke seemed to draw a laugh from the parents. “Shall we?”

At their nod, she slowly started leading them through the house, starting upstairs. She listened to them as they discussed what they would like to do with various rooms, their excitement almost contagious.

But she couldn’t find it in herself to share their excitement. This house was all she really knew, it had been in her own family for generations. She’d had her first kiss outside on the front steps leading to the Colonel dragging the boy away by the neck. The only time she’d considered something else home was the small apartment in Paris she’d shared with Jethro.

They’d hardly had any decent furniture, aside from the wrought-iron bed they had shared. Maybe sharing it with him had made it a little more home. It still hurt when she thought about what she’d said to him. It was the very same lie she’d penned to him all those years ago. Telling him they were better off as friends, that a relationship would never work.

Pushing her thoughts away, she led William and Julia back to the foyer and into the study.

“It’s one of my favourite rooms in the whole house.” She admitted as they took in her little sanctuary. “It’s the only room that will be unfurnished. Everything in here has been in my family since this house was built.”

“Of course.” William and Julia agreed.

“The fireplace is great in the winter, it can get a little cold down here sometimes.”

They couple seemed to discuss the room and what they might do with it, leaving her to her thoughts again.

The last stop was the kitchen where the twins were filling up on the milk and cookies Noemi had provided for them. Jenny stepped aside giving Noemi a wide-eyed glance. Sugar this late in the day for two hyperactive kids hadn’t been their brightest idea.

“Have you been good?” Julia watched her sons as they stuffed more cookies in their mouths. Both boys nodded happily.

Jenny watched quietly as the couple seemed to share a meaningful glance between their boys and each other. She swallowed heavily, realising there was no going back. Sparing a look at Noemi, she saw the housekeeper had realised it too.

“We obviously don’t want to rush you.” William started, reaching for his wife’s hand, “But I think its safe to say we’re ready when you are.”

Jenny grit her teeth knowing she was supposed to smile and at least appear excited for them. In the last few months her ability to play along had deteriorated immensely. Finding it in her to push her own personal feelings aside, she beamed at them.

“Great! I’ll start processing the paperwork with the real-estate agent. I’m certain you will be settled in pretty soon.”

She saw the happy smile shared between them and tried to ignore the loss for a while longer. Julia suddenly turned to her, the look on her face thoughtful.

“I don’t want to talk out of turn, but I’ve heard some whispers…”

“About?” She didn’t mean to sound tense, but she knew there were a million stories floating around about why exactly she’d stepped down as director of NCIS.

Julia shot her a nervous look. “I heard there was a consulting position open with one of the defence contractors we work with.” She smiled shyly, “They’re considering contacting you in the future.”

“Oh?” Jenny raised a brow. She doubted there had been any whispers about it at all. People with connections liked using them.

“I didn’t mean to trouble you with this. Since…” Julia turned bright red.

Jenny let out a soft laugh, “Don’t worry about it, Julia. If they do happen to contact me, I’ll definitely think about it.”

The prospect of working again was promising, or at least while she was healthy enough to work.

“We should be going, we have a function tonight.” William chipped in, seeming to realise they had to be somewhere.

Leading the small family back to the foyer, Jenny watched with amusement as they struggled with the two boys.

“If there’s anything you need or if there’s trouble with the paperwork. Let me know, and I’ll make sure it gets sorted out.” William had managed to grab one of the boys, making sure to have a firm grip on the young man.

Both Jenny and Noemi let out a sigh of relief as the young family said their goodbyes. Turning to her housekeeper she offered her a smile. “Seems like we have a lot of work to do, you up for it?”

Noemi nodded confidently, crossing her arms over her chest in a determined fashion. She shot her boss a troubled glance. “Where will you go, Señora?”

“A few blocks from here.” Jenny slid her hands in her back pockets, “It’s a lot smaller than this place. I’ve already started the paperwork. It just needs to be finalised.”

She’d neglected to tell Jethro as much, knowing she was just trying to make herself comfortable with the idea of moving out first. A part of her was as eager to leave as the new family was to move in. Glancing around the old house, she bit back tears.

It was time to move on.

* * *

The Friday afternoon sun was welcoming, fighting off the cold slowly moving in for winter. Melvin slipped his sunglasses in his shirt pocket, scanning the quiet neighbourhood thoughtfully. The phone call had surprised him. He preferred spending his rare days off otherwise occupied, but for some people he made exceptions. Easily jogging up the few steps, he knocked on the old door.

He waited no longer than a heart beat for the door to open, revealing his former ward. Looking over her shoulder, his eyes widened at the obvious chaos going on behind her.

The Georgetown mansion, mostly kept pristine, was a mess of boxes. Some were piled on top of each other and others gaping open waiting to be filled.

“Is this why you called me?” He groused when he saw Noemi dart across the foyer with another box.

Turning dark eyes back at one Jenny Shepard he smiled when she glared up at him, unimpressed with his little joke. The housekeeper darted back and he just managed to wave at her before she disappeared again.

“Hello to you too.” Jenny smiled at the younger man, relieved to see his handsome face.

“Please tell me, you didn’t call me to help you pack.” In the few years he’d worked as protective detail they’d had strange requests from those they protected.

Jenny rolled her eyes, “No that’s not why asked for your help, I have another request.”

Melvin looked down at her sceptically as she invited him into the chaos. Blinking slowly, he waited for his eyes to adjust.

“I was hoping you’d be able to change the pipe on the basin in the guest bathroom.” Jenny smiled at him a little embarrassed, “I tried this morning, but its too tight. The plumber will only be able to help me next week.”

He nodded, already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I am a plumbers son after all.”

“That’s not why I called you.” Jenny bit sarcastically.

“No?” He questioned quickly, wondering why exactly she had called him instead of a certain Special Agent he knew was probably more experienced than he was.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She muttered as she led him up the stairs towards the bathroom in question.

They passed a harried looking Noemi as she carried another box down the stairs. Reaching for her arm gently, Jenny stopped her. “Take a break. We’ll probably be a while.” She offered the housekeeper a smile as she nodded.

The upstairs hall was lined with boxes; he followed closely behind Jenny, terrified he might break his neck. He was surprised by how easily she navigated the small maze. It had always been a struggle to keep up with her. The rest of her detail usually fought over who got to stay in the car. He almost bumped into her as she suddenly stopped. Judging by the towels, the bathroom had almost flooded.

“The hose burst last night, nearly gave me a heart attack.” Jenny took a seat on the side of the tub.

Melvin snickered as he squatted next to the basin, examining the worn hose. “Pretty old pipes, I’m surprised it didn’t go earlier.”

“That’s not very comforting. The house has already been sold… so to speak.”

Looking over the tools spread on the floor, he grabbed the right wrench. Adjusting it, he squeezed himself into the tight space between the wall and basin. Watching her discreetly, he could tell she was tired. Spending the last few years with his sister, he had it down to an art to spot when they over worked themselves.

“How long have you had the house in the market?” It seemed like a safe topic for now. Three years as her detail had enlightened him of when she was struggling with something internally.

“I didn’t. A couple had been really interested. They’re signing the paperwork tonight. So I have to be out by next Friday at least.”

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

Jenny smiled at him. It was sometimes obvious he was an older brother. “Yes, I have a friend who’s a real-estate agent. I bought a small two bedroom house a few blocks from here, he hurried the paperwork on both deals.”

Melvin nodded thoughtfully. Finally loosening the hose connector, he started on the other end, turning his back to Jenny.

“How did the surgery go?” he glanced over his shoulder.

She shrugged, looking down at her feet. “Okay, chemo starts again once my six-week recovery is up.”

He’d read the headlines when the story was leaked. It hadn’t surprised him. People were easily bribed and in DC it was nothing new for people to sell information to the press. He’d dealt with it more hands on when he’d been assigned to Jenny, but since Vance had taken over he’d been assigned to coordinating the detail.

“Do you miss it?” he noted the slightly blank look, “Working?”

Jenny gave him a suspicious look, “You’ve heard.”

“Whispers here and there. People seem to forget that those assigned to protect them have ears too.” He shot her a grin. “Besides, heard SecNav speak very highly of you.”

“Ha! Don’t make me laugh, he couldn’t wait to boot my ass out of that chair.” There was anger in her tone, the frustration on her face obvious as he glanced at her.

“I have a buddy working for…” he stilled for a moment, “I can never remember the damn name. Anyway, they’re good people.”

“You trying to sell me on the idea?” Jenny looked at him with amusement as he reached for the new hose.

He avoided looking at her, starting to connect the new pipe. “Just thought you might want to keep busy.”

She shook her head, “Don’t let Jethro hear you say that, he thinks I might break.” It slipped out before she could stop it.

The revelation caught his attention. Resting the wrench on his thigh, he twisted to look at her. “I didn’t realise you two were really that close.”

“That-” she glared at him, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Melvin stared at the wall, eyes wide. Biting his tongue, he realised he’d slipped up. The casual mention of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs had thrown him off. Jenny’s whole detail had speculated whether the two of them had been anything more. The older agents who had protected Tom Morrow had mentioned the two of them used to be partners. Given their rocky relationship it was easy to draw conclusions.

“Nothing.” He mumbled quietly, busying himself with his task.

“Melvin,” she warned.

He sighed in defeat, “Story is, you two spent the weekend away. I don’t know the details, just that you went to see his dad. That’s it, nothing more.”

Jenny frowned, “How did you even know we saw his- never mind. His team probably knew.”

Melvin relaxed, turning back to face her. Getting the hose in place, he avoided looking at her. “So… it’s serious then?”

Glancing at him out the corner of her eye, she shook her head, smiling sadly. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Not serious enough to ask him to fix your pipes?” He joked lightly.

She chewed her lip, momentarily getting lost in her thoughts. “I don’t think things between us will ever be serious.” She saw the worried look on the young man’s face. “He lost his mother to cancer. She was terminal.”

“And?”

“And?” She sat up, back straight and her muscles tight with annoyance. “Firstly, he never told me. Secondly, how am I supposed to live with the fact that I’m just reminding him of how he lost his mother?”

Melvin’s brows twitched, knitting together in thought. “How was he supposed to tell you?”

Jenny gaped at him, not expecting his question. “I… wha- I don’t know. But it would’ve been nice to know before…”

“Before?” he pushed, sensing what was going on.

The silence between them dragged on, suddenly heavy with tension. She wasn’t going to elaborate any more than she already did. Tightening the hose connector, he sat back against the wall, studying her.

“Did he at least have a say in it?” the confused look was his only answer, “Before you broke it off?”

Jenny rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest and looking at him contritely, “That’s not the point.”

“Why not? Did you ask him why he never told you?” The pain in her eyes told him he’d hit a nerve. By now everyone knew about Gibbs losing his wife and daughter, it had spread like a wildfire. The observant part of him became aware that just maybe there was a connection.

“Jethro doesn’t say much, or anything really.”

Melvin placed the tools on the floor back in the small toolbox hidden behind the toilet. “I get it. My sister wanted to divorce her husband the moment she found out. It nearly broke my brother in-law. I was dragging him out of the bar every other night.”

“You’re not helping, Melvin.”

“I know,” he pursed his lips. “My sister didn’t want my help either. She didn’t want to put us through the worry and stress. It’s not always about you, Jenny. It’s just as hard on the people who care for you.”

Jenny shook her head, clenching her teeth. “No, I’m not going to let him watch me die.”

“Do you know that for certain?” he brushed off the death glare. “The more you think you’re gonna die, the chances are you probably will. Gibbs was still there when he found out about your diagnoses. He threatened me until I told him where you were being treated and when. Doesn’t sound like a guy who’s going to run when it gets worse.”

“I’m not taking the risk of losing him when things get rough.” She whispered softly.

“He took the risk of taking care of you even if it meant he might lose you.”

* * *

The silence in the basement was occasional broken as the sander slid across the wood, working out any imperfection that might linger. The air was thick with the smell of wood, the fine dust settling over everything like a soft blanket. The dying sunlight was streaming through the windows, signalling the lazy Saturday drawing to a close.

Jethro straightened his posture, the pain in his shoulders unbearable. Shuffling to the workbench, he flicked the switch on the small radio, letting the old country station wash over him. He’d been holed up in the basement since he got home Friday night, praying a case would demand his attention.

Reaching for a mug, he blew off some of the dust. Splashing some bourbon in it, he listened to the presenter drone on about something.

The team had been hiding from him to whole week, only delivering their findings on the open and shut case that had popped up on Tuesday. Tim had been helping Abby with some science stuff he couldn’t begin to understand. Ziva and Tony had loitered around the lab, doing more harm than good as they tampered with everything in sight.

He’d refused to acknowledge that Jenny breaking things off was hitting him harder than he thought. Jackson had called him for no reason on Wednesday, to ‘check in’. He had a feeling that Abby had been behind it.

Taking a seat, he filled his mug with another splash. He hadn’t really touched alcohol since Sunday night. The headache had lingered for long enough to make him suffer. The guy on the radio finally stopped talking, easing some of his irritation. The first few notes of a Waylon Jennings song started and he propped his head in his palm.

Nearly nine years ago he’d been in this exact same position. He’d fished her dear John letter out of one of the boxes, deciding to torture himself. She’d told him the same lie, that they were better off as friends. Back then he’d believed her, knowing he drove her away like everyone other woman in his life. Except she hadn’t been like any of the other women.

Maybe the writing had been on the wall from the beginning.

The letter stared back at him, buried under a few stray nails and used sandpaper. This time round she had at least said it to his face. The last few days he’d wondered if he had told her about his mother if she would’ve reacted differently.

He’d lost his mother nearly forty years ago. He’d somehow made peace with it. It was no less painful, but their time had been limited and she had suffered towards the end. The bad days with Jenny had reminded him of her.

The creaking floorboards had him reaching for the hidden pistol under the workbench. Listening closely, he tried to discern who had ventured into his house. The team wouldn’t dare bother him after how he’d acted most of the week. Ducky seemed like the only option, coming to offer a truce, for the children’s sake.

He frowned, realising the footsteps had stopped right outside the basement door. Leaning forwards, he tried catching a glimpse of whoever found themselves in his house on a Saturday night. Realising the basement was practically dark, he turned on the dim light. Letting whoever know he was home.

All he could see was a pair of black sneakers.

He grit his teeth, placing them with their owner instantly. He saw the hesitation, the nervous shift from one foot to another.

“Ya coming down, or not?”

A few seconds ticked by, the song drawing to an end. The presenter’s voice crackled through the radio again and he reached to slap it off.

The landing groaned under the sudden weight. Jethro swallowed heavily, watching as she came into view. The old grey FLET-C t-shirt she had on seemed to swallow her. The black headscarf she wore contrasting greatly with her pale skin. She had her hands in her jean pockets, green eyes darting between him and the bottom of the stairs.

He wasn’t sure he actually wanted her here.

Turning his back to her, he reached for the mug with his bourbon. The alcohol burned down his throat, forcing his eyes shut. Eyeing the bourbon bottle, he pushed his mug away. He couldn’t afford to drink while he was on call.

The steps creaked as she finally made her decision to venture farther into the basement.

Glancing over her shoulder, Jenny questioned just what exactly had driven her here tonight. She’d taken Melvin’s little lecture with a grain of salt. He was still young and didn’t know the history between her and Jethro. Things between them had never been clear cut, or easy.

There was no excuse to be here either. No paperwork that needed to be signed or world crises they needed to solve. She was here because in the last few days she’d realised that she’d fallen for him all over again. Nine years ago she’d blamed the job. Hiding behind a persona had been easier, even if she did admit her feelings for him.

Trudging through the thin layer of sawdust, she studied his large boot prints around the boat or at least part of the boat.

“I didn’t know you were almost done.” Her voice was unnaturally hoarse.

He turned around, the same look on his face as the night their Op to catch the Frog had gone awry.

_Long live the queen._

It still echoed in her mind, even if she did deserve it.

“You here to tell me it won’t sail?” There was no hiding the bitterness.

Her steps faltered. Crossing her arms over her chest, she tightened her fists in the grey fabric. Gritting her teeth, she nodded slowly. “I guess I deserved that one.”

Jethro glared at her, watching as she finished her slow trek around the boat’s cabin. Seeing her under better lighting, he noticed the black circles under her eyes. She was pale and it seemed like she lost even more weight in the last week he hadn’t seen her. Forcing the concern away, he wondered how long they’d wait before she told him why she had shown up.

“You come here to look at the boat or are you here for a reason?” The tone left no doubt that he wanted her to leave.

Blinking back the tears, she cleared her throat, “I, uh… Found some of your clothes while sorting my laundry. Some of my clothes are still here. I thought two birds one stone.”

He saw right through her forced laugh. Narrowing his eyes at her, the nervousness in her started showing. The balled fists, teeth worrying her bottom lip. Years ago she’d kept his clothes and a number of his personal items. It seemed like a poor excuse given their history.

“Yeah, it’s on the dryer.” He settled into the little corner of his workbench. The same place she’d found him after he’d come back from his brief stint in retirement.

The grudging look on his face made it clear that she wasn’t welcome. She spared a thought for Melvin, knowing he’d simply tried to help their situation. Jethro would never change, and it was a reality she had to accept.

Tracing her steps in the sawdust back to the bottom of the stairs, she spared him one last glance. The movement seemed to catch his attention and he turned his gaze on her. She opened her mouth to say something, but the anger in his eyes made her falter. Forcing another smile, she offered him a small wave before slowly making her way up the stairs.

Jethro grit his teeth, hating that he couldn’t just let her leave. “Jenny,” he sounded tired, “why are you really here?”

“I just told-”

“No, you used it as an excuse when you lost your nerve.” There was no retort from her, and he allowed himself the small victory. “I know you.” He threw back in her face.

The anger rippled off her as she squared her shoulders, dropping her hands to her sides in tight fists. Storming down the stairs, she ground to a stop right in front of him. The golden circles around her eyes made him swallow his rebuttal. She’d always been a force to be reckoned with.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” the anger was reminiscent of her directorship. “You know everything!”

Pushing himself to his feet, he got right in her face. “At least I know what I want.” He hissed, low and menacing.

“At least I don’t string someone along until they realise there’s no foreseeable future.” It pained her to say it, but she was well beyond sparing his feelings.

Jethro looked at her slightly winded. “Well at least they were adults about it. Last I checked none of them wrote me a dear John letter because they were too scared to break it off!”

He saw her pupils dilate with pain. It was the first time he’d ever really seen her at a loss for words. She moved away from him, as if his words had burned her. He was too pissed to feel bad for what he said.

Jenny turned her back to him, wiping at her cheeks. Sniffing loudly, she forced her voice not to break, “Women have left you before. Hell, you’ve been through three divorces. Why does it bother you so much that I left?”

The question threw him off, he faltered in his step towards her. “I never said that.”

She whirled on him, this time forcing him to take a step back. The rage in her eyes reminded him of the time she nearly broke Stan Burley’s nose for checking her out.

“Bullshit,” she invaded his personal space, “whenever things get personal between us that’s first thing you throw at me. It’s like you’re finding some way to get back at me for the way I left you. You asked me once if things would’ve been different if you had told me about Shannon and Kelly.”

The glare softened, he eased his defensive stance.

“Honest answer?”

He nodded slowly.

“Maybe,” the anger in her eyes dissipated, “but I don’t think it would’ve saved us. Three women tried, and none of them stuck around.”

“You’re saying it’s my fault?”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m not saying it’s anyone's fault.” Leaning against the workbench, she looked up at him. “I think your most recent venture into a relationship pretty much serves as an example of what would’ve happened to us.”

“Hollis wanted retirement.”

“You mean commitment,” she corrected, “and you balked at the idea.”

“She found out about…” he rubbed his forehead. “She wanted to settle down, maybe even have kids. Diane and Stephanie did too. I couldn’t go through that again.” He cleared his throat, turning on her. “You left me before I could even tell you.” He held up a hand when she tried to interrupt him, “We’ve talked about why you left me, Jen. I was a bastard. But now…”

Jenny dropped her head, staring at her sneakers.

“You lied to me Sunday, about us just bein’ friends.” He slowly reached out, running his pinky over the back of her hand. “Nine years ago you told me the same exact thing. I didn’t know it was your way of softening the blow. There’s got to be more to it than me not telling you about my mom?”

She didn’t pull away from him, instead watching as he traced the light bruise forming on her hand. “I can’t put you through this, Jethro. I know it’s different and that she’d been terminal. I still have a long way to go before I go into remission and that’s if I’m lucky.”

“Jen,” he broke contact with her, crossing his arms. “My mother took her own life.” He could see the sympathy in her eyes. “Dad doesn’t talk about it. He thinks I don’t know she committed suicide. I don’t have the heart to tell him either.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered quietly, knowing exactly what it felt like.

“I was angry, Jen.” His voice rose in volume, “I still had time with her and she took it away from me.”

She was aware his anger was misdirected, that she was the nearest target. Placing a hand on his bicep, she smoothed her hand over the muscles in a show of comfort.

“You, the treatment… Sometimes I think about my mom, but it’s more small reminders than anything else.” He finally turned towards her again, placing a hand over hers on his arm. “I admire you, Jen. I know this is hard for you, but you’ve come this far. You don’t want me there with you I understand, but don’t push me away just because you’re scared I’ll leave.” Placing a finger under her chin, he made her look at him. “I got your six.”

She gave him a sad smile, “I’m not Shannon, Jethro. I can never give you what you had with her.”

He nodded slowly, agreeing with her. “It was never about my girls, maybe it was me.”

Jenny tilted her head, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes.

“I wasn’t the same after Desert Storm. Aside from losing them, I lost myself somewhere on that battlefield.” He took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles. “War changed me, Jen. I’m not the man I was with them. Diane, Stephanie even Rebecca, they never understood what I had gone through.” His voice cracked suddenly, “But you did.”

She shrugged at him, realising it was the first time he’d ever revealed anything about himself. “My dad was a Colonel. He’d been in Vietnam for most of my early childhood. There was a darkness in his eyes when he came back. He was never really the same. I loved him even after the war.” She was quiet for a minute. “You’re a lot like him.”

They were quiet for a while, each wallowing in their own thoughts.

“I don’t understand, Jethro. Hollis was perfect for you. She knew what you went through during the war. I’m sure she would’ve understood why you didn’t tell her about your family.”

Jethro glanced at her, eyes guarded. “I liked her.” He admitted, “But I never had feelings for her.” He wasn’t going to tell her that he had conflicting emotions while he was involved with Hollis. In a dark part of his mind he knew it was his only defence to hurt her by flaunting his relationship with Hollis right under her nose.

Jethro cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Why did you end things this time?” he finally found the courage to ask.

“Because, I’m not the woman you once knew.” She avoided his gaze, preferring to stare at the letters on his shirt.

“Nah, Jen. You’re still the same pain in the ass probie.”

She thumped him in the shoulder, glaring up at him, “Hey!”

He grinned down at her, relieved to see her actually smile up at him. Risking the peace between them, he cupped her cheek softly. “Hi,” he whispered, enjoying the way her pupil dilated and the emerald irises darkened.

She tentatively reached up, running her fingers through his hair, “I missed you.”

Tilting her head back gently, he felt self-conscious as she stared up at him. Tracing a finger over her cheek, he flicked his eyes to her lips. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “Jen, I wanted that with you.”

“Commitment?” the confusion was evident in her eyes.

He nodded slowly, “Maybe even a family.”

She could barely hear his whisper, but she caught it.

There was a sadness reflected in her eyes that he knew she’d see in his own. He swallowed at the earnest determination that suddenly brightened her face.

“At least we’re here now.” Allowing a smile to curl his lips, he nodded in agreement. He doubted either of them would’ve ever reached this point had she not been sick. It forced them to get rid of their pride. He’d never been this honest with a woman, maybe because none of them had been Jenny Shepard.

Wrapping his other arm around her waist, she stumbled into his chest, drawing a short laugh. Tracing his thumb along her jaw, he pulled her flush against him. He was adept at reading her by now. She relaxed into him, large eyes blinking slowly in the dim light. The proximity between them didn’t seem to bother her.

She moved first, kissing him and tasting the bourbon off his lips. He closed his eyes, appreciating her warmth as her arms slipped around his hips. He felt her hands slip into the back pockets of his jeans. Smiling into their kiss, he cupped the back of her neck. She nipped at his lower lip, and he responded in kind.

He involuntarily tightened his grip on her as he tasted her. Tongues touching tentatively as she reciprocated.

Breaking the kiss, he gasped against her skin as she slipped her hands under his shirt, fingers kneading the tense muscles. He clenched his teeth, the feel of her lips kissing the underside of his jaw going straight to his groin.

She kissed down his throat, feeling the goosebumps break out over his skin as she traced her fingers along his spine. He didn’t hold back, the hand on her lower back disappearing under her shirt. His fingers were rough against her skin, his thumb tracing random patterns over her hip. Pressing her nose against his cheek, she breathed in his musky scent of sweat and wood shavings.

“It’s a week late, but do you want to pick up where we left off?” the alto purr sent all his blood rushing south and he nodded dumbly at her question.

Blue eyes darkened with hunger as he openly admired her, flicking his gaze from her lips down to her chest. Grabbing her hips firmly, he easily lifted her onto the workbench. Stepping between her thighs, she moved closer, grinding her hips into his.

He came willingly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed their torsos together. Large hands covered her ribs, squeezing gently. Her breath was hot against his lips, and he breathed her in. The smell of her perfume suddenly crowding his senses, heady and strong. They had been in a similar position countless times before, physically craving each other. Something was different, everything about them was different this time. For the first time in years, the woman in his arms knew everything about him. He was emotionally bare to her. Swallowing, he slipped his tongue past her lips.

Jenny moaned softly, once again tasting the bourbon off his tongue. Grabbing fists full of his shirt, she hugged him closer. The last man to kiss her like this had been him. She secretly blamed the vulnerability of the moment for how emotional she felt. There hadn’t been another man like him. Others had tried, but she’d known from the moment things between them had ended that there would never be another like him. Her lungs burned, but the sensation of him exploring each crevice felt too damn good to just stop.

He gasped against her mouth, groaning softly as she refused to let him pull away. His fingers bunched the soft material of her shirt, trying to gain better control of his mind.

She panted softly in his ear, causing his groin to tighten painfully. As much as he wanted to throw her over his workbench, he knew it wouldn’t do the night justice. Stepping away, he lifted her off the workbench, taking her small hand in his and leading her up the rickety stairs.

The house was dark and quiet except for the soft snickering as they tried navigating the short trek from the basement to the stairs leading to his bedroom.

Jethro was all over her, touching her wherever his hands managed to land. She swatted at him playfully, letting out a surprised yelp as he wrapped his arms around her and pinned her against the wall between the front door and the stairs. He kissed along her neck, feeling her pulse skitter against his tongue as he laved the tender skin.

“As much of a turn on as this is, I’m sure that ancient bed of yours is far more comfortable.” Jenny whispered in his ear, not missing the way his hips jerked against her thigh.

He chuckled, willingly following her up the stairs, his eyes fixated to the tantalizing swing of her hips.

The room was untouched, the bedsheets still haphazardly smoothed to appear made. The old alarm clock he’d found somewhere still blinked on the night stand. Flicking on the lights, she felt him stop right behind her, arms slipping around her waist and pulling her against him.

Dropping her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes. Tilting her hips back, she pressed into his pelvis feeling his erection.

He spread his palms over her hips, keeping her still as he ground his own against her ass. Panting softly in her ear, he forced himself to stop, knowing he didn’t have the self-control to behave himself. She suddenly turned on him, fingers hooked in his belt loops, pulling him into the room.

Jethro backed her up against the edge of the bed, stopping the moment she resisted. The flash of insecurity in her eyes made him back off. Despite years of knowing each other, this wasn’t like nine years ago. They both had changed, but he had to take his cues from her.

“We don’t need to rush this, Jen.” The uncomfortable tightness in his jeans disagreed, “Only if you’re comfortable.”

Jenny bit her lip, blushing. “It’s not that, I just want you to realise that things… look different.”

“You know I don’t care about any of that.”

Pressing her hands against his chest, she traced the contours of his muscles. “I know,” she whispered.

“You want me to turn off the lights?” he’d never seen her this self-conscious. They were on treacherous grounds.

Shaking her head, she leaned against him, nudging his jaw lightly with her nose to coax him into another kiss. Slipping her hands lower, she reached for the hem of his shirt. Bunching the material in her hands as he kissed her.

He took a step back, lifting his arms to help her take off his shirt. The air was cool against his warm skin, sending a chill through his body.

His breathing was shallow as she kissed down his throat, fingers weaving through his chest hair. She moved lower, scraping her teeth gently over his nipples, causing his head to loll back and the grip he had on her hips to tighten.

“Jen…” He moaned quietly. She’d been young when they first started their love affair, open to all sorts of exciting things. It was in the privacy of their bedroom that she had him begging and agreeing to whatever she wanted. He’d never admit it, but she’d made him far more agreeable to certain things he never even considered.

Lithe fingers ghosted over his abdomen, causing the muscles to contract in excitement. He dropped his forehead against hers, aware of his own heavy breathing matching hers. He gasped softly as she traced the strip of hair trailing down from his navel.

Toeing off his boots and socks, he waited with bated breath as she thumbed the button of his jeans.

Jenny bit her lip, lifting her head and kissing him. He was eager to deepen the kiss. She slipped her tongue past his teeth, feeling his weight growing a little heavier against her. She was hoping to distract him for just a little while longer as she tried gathering her courage to expose herself to him. Easing off, she pecked his lips sporadically.

Brushing one hand bellow his waistband, he shuddered against her. Running her palm over his erection, she felt heat coil between her thighs. The idea of what she could do to him had always spurred her on. He was incredibly hard, jeans straining as he rubbed himself against her palm.

She swallowed heavily, reaching for his hands suddenly. He seemed sluggish, still high off the sensation her hand had provided. He blinked lazily, blue eyes bright and his pupils fully dilated. The excitement that had flooded her was slowly dissipating. She was torturing herself, convinced that he’d change his mind once he saw her naked.

He crowded her personal space, needing to feel her close. Brushing his lips over her ear, he breathed heavily, “What do you need?”

The tension was obvious in her tone, “Undress me.”

Her hands closed over his and moved them to the hem of her shirt. Hooking the material around his thumbs, he slowly inched her shirt higher, revealing pale skin. Watching her carefully, he saw her avoiding his gaze. After the surgery, Noemi had been the one to help her with the bandages. It was true what he’d told her, it didn’t matter to him that she’d gone through changes since the last time they had been together.

Slowly revealing her midriff, he noted the pale scars. Scars he didn’t recognise. It must have happened during her time working with Mossad. They were too many to count. The only thing that could inflict those type of wounds was shrapnel from a poorly made bomb. Smoothing his thumb over three prominent welts, he swallowed heavily. He carried his own knife wounds, and judging by the angry scars she’d barely made it through the ordeal.

She’d never been shy about her scars, and he knew her self-consciousness had nothing to do with them.

Brushing the elastic of her bra, he looked up to make sure she was still okay. Her eyes were closed, bottom lip drawn between her teeth. He saw the glistening tear roll over her cheek. He immediately untangled his hands from her shirt, wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against his chest.

“We really don’t have to do this, Jenny.” He brushed the tears from her cheeks, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or forced.” He kissed her temple tenderly, “Just give me a few minutes to…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

She tightened her grip on him, stopping him from moving away. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she sighed, “I’m just not comfortable taking off my shirt.”

“You sure? Don’t worry about me, Jen. Nothing a cold shower can’t fix.” They both knew he was well beyond a cold shower by now.

Grabbing his face gently, she kissed him to shut him up, “Does that make you feel better?” The gentleness he showed touched her more than she cared to admit. Running a palm over his jeans, she heard him swallow audibly.

Taking his hands, she placed them on her hips, letting him take back control. She kicked off her sneakers, expertly getting rid of her socks in the process.

Jethro wrestled the small button loose, tentatively seeking out her lips. They kissed lazily, simply enjoying the moment. Easing the zip open, he felt her gasp softly against his lips as his fingers brushed over her panties. Sliding his hands over her thighs, he cupped her ass playfully as he slid her jeans down.

Letting her take a step back; he blatantly stared at her toned legs as she stepped out of her jeans. Aware that he’d slipped his own hand over his groin.

“Jethro, you’re drooling.” She teased.

“Damn right.” He croaked, already reaching for her again.

She didn’t waste any time divesting him of his jeans, “Still wearing boxer briefs I see.” She grinned as she eyed the obvious bulge. “Before Paris I always pegged you as the boxer type.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered thickly, unable to drag his eyes away from her.

“You certainly are.” She whispered in his ear as she slipped her hand in his briefs.

He groaned quietly, pressing his nose against her cheek. She bit her lip, palming him gently. Memory really didn’t do him any justice. She’d forgotten just how well endowed he was. There was a certain charm to how embarrassed he got whenever she’d mentioned it. Deciding she’d put him through enough, she slipped his underwear off.

She couldn’t help but watch as he slipped free, twitching with excitement. Wrapping a firm hand around his cock, she pumped slowly, feeling his hips thrust into her every time.

He quickly wrapped a hand around her wrist, stopping her. She obliged, leading him into another passionate kiss.

Jethro tried refocusing his mind on something other than the need to have her right then and there. Supporting her thighs, he picked her up and gently deposited her on the bed, gritting his teeth as the tip of his cock brushed against her panties.

Positioning himself beside her, he inched her t-shirt a little higher, just above her navel. She seemed to catch on quickly, knotting the material to the side, shortening the oversized shirt. Resting his hand just below her navel, he worked his rough fingertips lower, feeling her muscles flutter. Her hips spread of their own accord, anticipating where his fingers were headed.

Focusing his attention on her, he heard her breathing grow shallow, pale cheeks flushed with excitement. Her eyes were heavy lidded, watching him with barely concealed desire. There was a brief flash of annoyance and he faltered.

“What’s wrong?” If it had been normal circumstance, he would’ve brushed it off. He had to learn all over again, what worked and what she was comfortable with.

“This damn scarf.” She growled, easily reaching up and taking it off.

He hoped his surprise was concealed. Trying not to make her self-conscious, he focused on her large green eyes. Growing a little arrogant as they lost focus the moment he slipped his fingers in her panties. Her heavy breathing was back as he slipped his fingers lower. He managed to mask his surprise at the lack of thick curls. It was suddenly a stark realisation of the reality surrounding them.

She didn’t seem too bothered by the change. Leaning down, he kissed her softly, drawing her into a deeper kiss as his fingers slipped against her intimately.

Jenny pulled away, head buried in her pillow as he brushed her clit. The gasp was loud, but she couldn’t care less. Having him this close after all these years wrecked havoc with her senses. But they both noticed the same glaringly obvious problem.

“Jen?” The shyness in his voice almost made her laugh out loud. She wasn’t used to him being this unsure. He’d always been insatiable in bed, taking charge and having her begging him for more.

“I was hoping this wouldn’t happen.” She muttered irately, moving away from him, scared to see the disappointment on his face. “ _Dryness_ ,” she spat bitterly, “is one of the side effects of the chemotherapy.” She rubbed at her forehead, rolling away from him and sighing in frustration. She sat up, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, “I thought, that you know... once we got going something might happen.”

He crawled towards her, undeterred, “Do you trust me?”

“Jethro, this isn’t a quick fix.”

“I know,” he kissed her pulse feeling the light flutter, “but it’s not what I asked.”

She tilted her head towards him, nodding.

“Open the drawer.” He indicated towards the ancient night stand.

Giving him a sceptical look, she obeyed. Giving the drawer a firm yank, it flew open, the contents sliding to the front.

There was a packet of opened condoms, not surprising. Jethro was nothing if not prepared. There were a few other random items. A random brush and what looked like a lost razor, but it was the unsuspecting tube that threw her off. Reaching for it, she held it up for the both of them to stare at.

The tube of K-Y Jelly stared back at them. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a suspicious look. “Is this stuff as old as your bed?”

He rolled his eyes at her, easily reaching for the tube. “No, bought it a few months ago.”

“Oh?” the question was simply a preamble to whatever tease she could think of next. “Had some personal plans, did you?”

“Jenny,” he flinched, knowing exactly what she was eluding to. Determined not to break under the playfulness of her gaze, he ignored her question. “Works for unsticking bolts and screws. Great for fishing rod reels too.”

She gaped at him, “You know... I actually believe you.”

He simply hummed at her, wrapping an arm around her middle, he dragged her back onto the bed.

They settled back down. He smiled at her quiet giggle, relieved that she wasn’t as tense any more. Shifting against her, he moved over her, keeping her still. Nudging his nose against hers, he waited for her to settle down.

“Do you trust me?” he reiterated, this time wanting an answer.

“Yes.” She mumbled against his lips.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered, watching as her eyes slipped shut, relaxing into his embrace.

Jenny listened with bated breath. The sudden pop of the cap almost startled her, causing her muscles to flutter with anticipation. Jethro shifted his weight, taking up his position beside her again. There was a distinct squirt and she instinctively bit her lip.

“It’s going to be cold.” He warned, and she doubted a warning had ever sounded so seductive.

Grabbing a fist full of the bed-sheet, she gasped as his cold wet fingers brushed over her clit. “Son of a bitch.”

He chuckled in her ear. The sudden coolness quickly dissipated as he ran his fingers up and down. This time she gasped for a completely different reason as he slipped two fingers inside her. She reached for his wrist, nails biting into his skin as she writhed against him.

“That feels good.” She sighed against his cheek. He added more lube, easily warming it up now that he had her relaxed and more at ease.

She opened her eyes the moment she left the bed dip. He dropped the lube on the night stand haphazardly, easily within reach if they needed it. He settled between her thighs, his cock hot against her inner thigh. She met his dark gaze, wrapping her fingers around him and slowly guiding him closer.

He groaned as he entered her, his back ramrod straight, stopping himself from sliding in all the way. Experimenting, he moved closer. He could tell she was tense from the death grip she had on his biceps.

“Jen?” he waited, physically aching.

The brief nod had him easing in the rest of the way, careful not to move too quickly. He pressed his forehead against hers, seeking out her mouth. They kissed languidly, soaking up the sensation of being together again like this after so many years apart. Shifting his hips, he started moving slowly.

His breathing was ragged as he picked up the pace.

“Oh!” He froze at the sudden yelp, not sure if it was surprise or pain, but the firm hand against his hip told him it was the latter.

“You okay?” he choked out, unable to think straight.

“It,” she shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “It hurts.”

He immediately started pulling out. She hooked a leg over his hip, stopping him. “Are you still as flexible as you were back then?”

“You wanna do the thing?” he panted against her neck.

It had come naturally to them, and he’d secretly prided himself in it. The thing in question was a smooth change in position with a simple roll that placed her on top. Although he’d never admit it to her, she’d been the only woman he’d managed to pull it off with. She nodded, and he gripped her thigh firmly.

Shifting his weight, she easily rolled with him, hips still nestled together. He dropped his head against the pillow staring up at her. For a moment he found it hard to breathe. She was still beautiful despite everything she had gone through. Reaching for her hips, he traced the faint scars, suddenly overcome with the need to keep her safe.

Jenny shifted on top of him, finally finding the right angle. She tried not to overthink it too much. She had to relearn her body, figure out what it needed to get her there. The strain from supporting his weight had been too much. This way she could control their rhythm.

Rocking her hips, she easily found the angle that worked and judging by his soft moans, Jethro liked them too. She could feel him slowly start to pulse, his hips rising to meet her as she set a steady pace. Resting her hands on his chest, he guided her through the rhythm, adding to the pleasure building. Judging from the falter in his hips, he was close.

“I’m not there yet.” She groused, growing frustrated with herself.

Jethro stilled her hips. They had been here once or twice before, especially when she was stressed or overworked. Running his fingers over her exposed stomach, he slipped his hand between them. Adjusting the way she straddled him. He had her lean back against his thighs.

He pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing in small steady circles. He was straining inside her, but the sporadic flutter of her muscles kept him right on the edge. She eased forward, hands pressed against his chest. She watched him through half lidded eyes, and he knew she was close.

“Faster.” She moaned, finally feeling her pleasure build.

She picked up the pace, settling into an erratic rhythm. He arched into her, unable to keep his own pleasure at bay any longer. The sudden clench of her muscles and small cry sent him over the edge. He grabbed her hip with his other hand, guiding her as he spilled inside her.

Jenny breathed heavily, riding out her orgasm as Jethro kept up the steady circles. She flinched away, over sensitive from the stimulation. Collapsing against him, she slipped an arm around his neck, shuddering as he slipped out of her.

Wrapping his arms around her, he gently rolled them onto their sides. She stared into his hazy blue eyes, running her fingers through his hair. It had always been her most cherished memories with him. The few minutes after they were equally spent. The vulnerability in his eyes as they just watched each other.

He kissed her, tongue gently probing. For a few minutes they could ignore reality. Before one of them went hunting for a towel and the other looking for clean bed sheets.

“I think I should go clean up.” She spoke softly, not wanting to break the tranquillity. The stickiness between her thighs was hard to ignore, and reality was slowly breaking their little bubble.

“Take your time. Gonna find some fresh sheets.” He easily returned the kiss she planted on him before slipping out of bed.

She undid the knot in her t-shirt much to his disappointment. The dark look in her eyes told him he’d been caught staring. Playing it off, he casually propped an arm under his head. Watching as she sashayed out of the room, hips swinging.

Feeling his heart rate slow down to a normal pace, he finally found the strength to move. Slipping on his jeans, he quickly pulled off the sheets.

Navigating the stairs to the foyer, he switched on the lights. The sound of the shower running had him stopping in his tracks. Old habit wanted him to drop everything and join her, maybe coax her into one last round.

Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the window, he stared at himself. He’d changed too. He was greyer than before, even if he still had it in him to chase down suspects, his body made him pay. The days of tackling one jackass after another were well behind him. Maybe the change had brought more maturity, maybe this time he could make it work with Jenny.

He secretly blamed the bourbon for letting her in on his inner-workings. It was long overdue. In the last few months she’d open up towards him, let him in on what kept her up at night. There was never going to be a good time to talk about either of their past. They’d both done things they weren’t at all proud of.

He just hoped she was done running away from him when things started going sideways.

The sound of the water shutting off jolted him back. Depositing the sheets in the laundry basket, he grabbed a pair of her sweats and a t-shirt from the pile he’d ironed.

He found Jenny halfway, grey t-shirt hitting her thighs. He couldn’t help his very obvious gaze travelling down to her legs. Shooting her a sly grin, he wrapped a hand around the soft pale skin of her thigh. “Going somewhere?”

She grinned against his lips, returning his kiss easily. “Anywhere if you’re coming.”

He laughed softly.

Taking the clothes off him, she nudged his nose gently with hers. “Shower is all yours. I’ll make the bed.” She pressed one last lingering kiss to his lips.

He twisted his fingers in her t-shirt, keeping her from slipping away from him. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

* * *

The fire crackled in the hearth, warmth spreading throughout the cold living room. The old TV was on, a classic black and white Western flickering on the screen. A small lamp burned, providing a soft glow. The empty pizza box sat on the corner of the coffee table. Jenny snuggled closer to the warm body beside her, hoping to steal his heat. Placing her head on his shoulder, she tried stifling a yawn.

A large hand slipped under her t-shirt, rough fingertips running over the soft skin. She let out a soft sound of contentment. The kiss to her temple made her smile. They had been physical during their time in Paris, but she’d never felt this content.

They had slept together and had forged a working relationship into a romantic one. A lot of things between them had been left unsaid back then. Licking her lips, she breathed in the smell of his soap as it lingered on his skin.

“I sold the house.” Neither of them were really paying attention to the film.

“Yeah?” The soothing circles on her hip didn’t stop, instead he pulled her closer.

“It was time.” The confession seemed to draw his attention. She glanced at him, “All that house meant to me was that my father died there.”

He seemed sympathetic. Knowing his past, his reaction wasn’t that big of a surprise.

“Ya need help moving?” He tried easing them away from any bad memories that conversation might bring up.

“The moving company is doing most of the work. I’m only taking some of the furniture. The rest stays with the house. I don’t have the space anyway.”

They lapsed into silence, watching the black and white film. He could tell by the way her fingers kneaded the muscles in his thigh, she was working through something internally. He grit his teeth, feeling her nails gently prick his skin.

“Jenny,” he spoke softly, hoping to draw her out of whatever was plaguing her. She looked at him, green eyes large and partially guarded by the shadows around them. He could’ve sworn in that very moment she seemed scared. Cupping her cheek, deep green eyes fluttering shut, he couldn’t resist kissing her.

They pulled apart, and he couldn’t help but smile at the soft contented sigh she let slip. “There somethin’ on your mind, Jen?”

“I hate it when you do that.” It had always bothered her how well he was at reading people. As much as he denied it, she knew he was incredibly well attuned to picking up on other people’s emotions. “It’s nothing.”

He stiffened beside her, muscles taught with either irritation or anger. She knew he wasn’t going to push her, but he was going to withdraw from her emotionally if she didn’t answer him. “It’s silly, Jethro.” She confessed in a half whisper.

A grey eyebrow shot into his hairline, taken aback with the shyness in her voice, “Doubt it.”

Jenny huffed, nuzzling her face into his neck, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see her face. “I made a list.”

He frowned, put off that he couldn’t gauge her emotions. Craning his neck, he rested his cheek on top of her head. He reached for her hand as it rested on his thigh, lacing his fingers with hers. “Bucket list?” he tried keeping his voice low.

The nod against his throat had him tightening the grip he had on her. Swallowing, he wondered if she could hear his sudden anxiety over her confession. He remembered stumbling across a piece of paper his mom had once written her own list on.

“I made it a few days after being diagnosed.” She continued quietly, her own grip on him tightening. “I don’t even know why.”

“Hope?” his voice was low, trying to understand what she was going through.

“Maybe…” this time her sigh was dejected. “You want to know what was first on my list?”

“To shoot me?” he couldn’t help but joke. The quiet laugh had him relaxing the death grip on her hand.

“No, although it was definitely in the top ten.” She straightened, this time meeting his gaze. “I actually wanted a puppy.”

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. She’d never really struck him as the pet type. He never doubted her capabilities of caring for something or someone. She loved children, even if she did try and hide it from everyone around her. Jenny was painstakingly neat, and a dog didn’t really fall into that category.

“Did you want one of those frilly dogs?”

She burst out laughing at the utter disgust in his voice. Shaking her head, she patted his leg, “No, I don’t want a frilly dog. I had a friend in high school; they had a Great Dane. I’ve wanted one ever since. After college and joining NCIS, I never really had the time.”

Jethro grinned at her, “You considering it?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully, “The backyard is big enough. Would be nice to have some company when Noemi isn’t around.”

“I’m not invited?” He couldn’t help the tease.

“You know what I mean.” She shoved him lightly, rolling her eyes at him.

He pulled her back into the comfortable position they had been in. Work was unpredictable, he could never promise her that he’d be there to keep her company every night. Maybe it was all she needed? A puppy meant she had someone depending on her. It gave her a little more purpose than just simply passing the time.

She threw her leg over his, a hand sneaking under his shirt and resting on his abdomen. The fingers on her hip picked up their slow patterns. His other hand hooked at the back of her knee, keeping her firmly in place. Placing her head on his chest, she watched the old Western with vague interest.

“Jethro,” she whispered, secretly hoping he couldn’t hear her over the noise of the film.

“Hm,” he kissed her temple in acknowledgement.

Chewing her lip for a moment, she fought back the sudden swell of tears. “I don’t want to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep this as realistic as possible, but it’s hard when you’re writing fiction. K-Y Jelly really can be used for rusty bolts if you don’t have WD-40, and on fishing rod reels. I’m also amused by the idea of Gibbs just randomly buying K-Y Jelly for something other than its actual purpose.

**Author's Note:**

> You can all find me on Tumblr under JamJar98 if you have any questions.


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